


I never thought I'd be so lucky

by Opium_Poppy



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Justice League - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Clark Kent, Dom Bruce Wayne, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Smut, Submissive Clark Kent, SuperBat, Top Bruce Wayne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:01:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26779273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opium_Poppy/pseuds/Opium_Poppy
Summary: A growing romance with a side of kink between World's Finest.It's a series of drabbles with the bare minimum of continuity, set in not particular timeline.There's smut, but most of it in the last chapter, if you're here for that feel free to skip, you won't be missing all that much.P. S. As a beginner ficwriter, I want to ask you to comment on everything think I should know. I'd like some feed back about how did you find the writing.
Relationships: Batman/Superman, Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50





	1. For hearts long lost

Batman was behind much of the Watchtower’s engineering. With money non-issue and privacy in mind, there were no communal showers or dorms or anything, really. Most walls were lined with lead; leaguers said Batman was paranoid, but everyone appreciated privacy it afforded. Most of the time.

“Oh, for fucks sake, Clark, just follow him,” Diana rolled her eyes. “It’s the perfect opportunity.”

“I don’t… not… what?” Clark’s blush could be seen from Earth. “I’m not…”

“Very eloquent, I know. Or subtle. And believe me, if I can see it, so can Bruce. Just tell him how you feel, what’s the worst thing that would happen?”

“Literally everything,” Superman’s eyes widened as he pictured the situation. “Can you imagine me ‘walking in’ on Bruce showering – _completely naked_ – and telling him I’ve got a crush on him? He’ll kick me out! Of Justice League too!”

“Yes, because Bruce always reacts like an insecure teenager,” if Diana could muster a bit more sarcasm it’d become tangible. “Why are you being so Smallville? I’m not suggesting coming on to him, you’d never pull it off. Just confront Batman when he least expects it, for example, right now, and get it out of your system. You work together a lot, it’s completely normal.”

“Yeah, no,” Clark was still hesitant, but her words reassured him a little. “He’s intimidating. And so focused on the League, I’ll just look silly. It’s only a crush, it’ll pass.”

“Ugh!”

“And why are you playing a matchmaker? Weren’t the two of you an issue?”

“Weren’t the two of us?” Wonder Woman kicked back in her chair and reached for the coffee mug. “Bruce and I have never been exclusive; I’m not doing that again. Firstly, it’s a bed arrangement, not a relationship. Secondly, don’t change the subject. Go, Clark. Because if you don’t I’ll find a way to get you in my lasso and then you will confess exactly how you feel and what you want to do with him.”

She didn’t know Superman could get any redder. _His indecisiveness would be so cute if it wasn’t annoying_ , she thought, watching Clark leave.

Bruce left a door ajar. Superman wasn’t ready to go in. What would he even say? He floated an inch above ground to make sure he remained discreet. Like Diana said, just go in, confess the crush, get out before he has time to process and hope for the best. What’s that even? That Bruce ignores it and it would be business as usual? That’d be awkward, bet they’d get over it eventually. That he returns the feelings? Yeah, that’s not likely. Batman will die before showing emotion or affection, certainly not to him. Maybe Bruce will scold him, as he usually does, for being too involved. He’ll cross his arms on his chest and tell Clark that their life is too risky and too complicated, and that an emotional attachment would be a burden he neither could nor wanted to bear. Clark could picture the conversation perfectly: the pose, the voice, the words. He even got distracted a bit, fantasizing about Bruce’s arms. And then Batman would tell him to get over his feelings, to master them and to draw strength from his resolve. He knew his damn speeches too well at this point.

Bruce’s naked torso appeared in the slit of the door, and Clark’s heart skipped a beat. When Batman turned to close it, he was already gone. Maybe Diana had the right idea about the lasso.

***

“So what have you decided to do about Joker?” Arthur asked, picking up a hair comb. His hair has not dried yet and if he didn’t handle it now, there’d be no way to untangle that crow’s nest until he returned to the water.

Arthur, Bruce, Kara, Dinah and Clark were sitting in the lounge, passing time before the Green Lantern’s arrival, who said he had important news to deliver in person. Couldn’t be very urgent, but everyone was still curious. Meanwhile, Batman was telling the crew about the latest trouble in Gotham.

“Find, catch, send to Arkham,” Bruce’s expression was hard to guess under the cowl, but the tone betrayed worry. “Preferably, before he murders a bunch of people in an especially cruel way. Fucking psychopath.”

“Sociopath. You’ll manage,” Dinah’s voice was as confident as ever. “You always do. But I’ll get the word out, and if I hear anything related, I’ll make sure to pass it along.”

“Appreciate it.”

“Or, if you need a hand in tracking him down,” started Clark. “I could always…”

“No,” Batman cut him off with metal in his voice. “Stay away from Joker.”

“What, do you think he can’t handle it?” Kara was always quick to defend her cousin. “Isn’t it arrogant to turn away help, even when you know civilians are in danger?”

“No. And it is Gotham. Civilians are always in danger.”

“What he means to say,” Dinah cut in, placing her hand on Kara’s shoulder, “is that Joker is not a problem you can punch away. Unless Clark is willing to kill him on the spot, Joker will find a way to manipulate him into causing a lot of destruction.”

“He’s a psychopath, and you have to play his game,” continued Aquaman. “Bats is the best at it.”

“Sociopath.”

“What they said. Besides, since we started teaming up, there’s no way Joker didn’t plan for something like it. Kryptonite is not as hard to come by as you think, Clark.”

“Okay, okay,” Superman raised his hands. “It was only a suggestion.”

Bruce’s face under the cowl turned sour. He had meant to come off caring, not patronizing. He actually liked Clark, especially since he shed off most of his provincial naïveté. He admired the person Superman was becoming, even if, chances were, that person won’t be particularly fond of Bruce.

“You know, if you really wanted to help,” he begun, trying to figure something out as he went along, “I remember reading something about LexCorp’s new line of military visors. If I can get my hands on one, we’d have proof they’re actually transmit video feeds to LexCorp. Then you could write an article about it. Won’t do much, but if we can cause his stock value to drop, it’d bite Lex in the ass.”

“And give a Wayne Tech much needed edge, huh?” teased Dinah.

“Don’t let Lucius catch you saying that.”

“Um, yeah, sure, I’ll get right on it.”

“I appreciate it, Clark,” Bruce hesitated for a second, but then clapped Superman on the shoulder. He flinched, muscles tightening under touch. Why was he so uncomfortable? “A lot.”

“I… sure, yeah, any time,” Clark was avoiding his eyes. What the hell is going on with that man?

Arthur finished struggling with a particularly stubborn lock and shook his head. Kara and Dinah let out a sigh of envy.

“Bats, are you reading this?” he said, staring at the tiny holographic screen.

“Yes. Hal is back. And he’s not alone.”

Superman could be in hangar bay in a matter of moments, but chose to walk with others. The spacious room took almost one fourth of the station, had several landing pads and was filled with spare parts and maintenance equipment. He tried cleaning it up once – didn’t last.

Airlock chamber opened and Green Lantern flew in, followed by an alluring companion. She was unmistakably human, but gave off something alien, unrecognizable. Her revealing outfit was similar to Hal’s, but vibrantly violet, with more attention to detail – thigh-high boots, gloves, decorative ornaments. Winged mask hid most of her face, but Clark just _knew_ it was perfect, he could feel it.

Everyone felt a bit enchanted as she entered. Arthur muttered something under his breath, which Clark was too distracted to make out, but knowing Arthur, it was definitely something he’d rather not hear. The man had a mouth of a sailor, which, come to think of it, made perfect sense. Arthur wasn’t the only one, though – Superman could definitely hear Dinah’s quickened breath and Bruce’s too. The thought of it stung a bit in the chest.

“Hi, everyone,” announced Hal. “This is…”

“The Star Sapphire,” Batman and Superman answered in unison.

“A Star Sapphire,” she corrected, raising her hand in a gesture as if flaunting the engagement ring. It really had a ring with a Star Sapphire insignia. Well, it’s a good start, when the queen possessed her hosts, she was using a gem. “I’m not _her_ , you know. You can call me Carol.”

Whatever the name, Clark disliked her already.

“Yeah, anyway,” continued Hal, scratching the back of his head. “Carol has info I thought you’d all like to know. And she offers help.”

“Really? The next time you’ll walk in with Sinestro? What the hell, Hal?” yelled Black Canary. “May I remind you the exact amount of trouble this woman caused or is it going right out of your head the second you see a pretty face?”

“I’m not your enemy,” Carol objected in a deep voice. “Not in this. I…”

“Shut it, cheerleader,” Kara cut her off.

“It’s important that you know,” Star Sapphire paid Supergirl no mind. “I don’t like it either.”

Clark sighed, but kept silent. Star Sapphires are not exactly villains, at least, after the death of their queen, but they could hardly be called heroes and they almost never reach out to anyone, least of all Justice League. That one would come to the Watchtower signaled big time trouble.

“Okay, everyone, give it a pause,” Batman took a step forward and turned to his teammates. Clark felt a bit weak in the knees every time Bruce took command. He was always prudent and clever about it, the rest rarely questioned him. Kent even forgot he was standing next to the embodiment of love. “Everyone, come with me. Kara, get J’onn, I want to make sure Hal isn’t under any sort of influence. Clark, get her to the holding cell until we can decide what to do.”

“Hey, wait!” Hal flew in between Clark and Sapphire. “I promised her protection from exactly this. Carol is here to help!”

“I didn’t promise anything,” Bruce parried. “But fine. The two of you stay here. Superman, watch her, and watch yourself. And you, try anything and you’ll leave this room in pieces. There are enough of us to make sure of that.”

As the rest of the heroes left, Clark fixed his eyes on his charge and focused on his feelings. Star Sapphires are supposed to be irresistible, but he mostly felt resentment. Oh, he felt attraction too, but it was empty, devoid of meaning. Then again, she wasn’t trying.

Carol looked directly at Clark and produced a small power battery from the folds of her suit. It grew quickly in her palm.

“I’ll need to recharge my ring. Is that alright?”

Superman narrowed his eyes, but nodded cautiously. Sapphire placed a battery on the nearest panel and raised her fist in front of it. Violet glow filled the room along with an unexpected smell. Smell of Kevlar and rubber, mixed with leather and machine oil, a bit of sweat and traces of deodorant. It smelled like Bruce. He could almost feel his embrace.

_“For hearts long lost and full of fright,_

_For those alone in blackest night:_

_Accept our ring and join our fight,_

_Love conquers all, with violet light!”_

Light and smell intensified as she spoke the oath and disappeared, as if never there. Clark had to put an effort into his balance for a second. Carol miniaturized her lantern and turned to him.

With a gesture, she made her mask disappear and smiled just a little. “A bit star-struck? Sorry, should have warned you, violet light has that effect on people.”

“Just a bit unexpected, that’s all,” Clark genuinely tried to be friendly, just in case it wasn’t all a trick and Hal’s trust wasn’t misplaced. “Anyway, why are you here? What could be that important that Star Sapphire would ask help of Justice League of all people?”

She sighed. “I was hoping I’d only have to tell the story once, and I’d much rather wait till all your friends are on board. In short, the War of Light is coming and chances are Earth will be in its way. I’d prefer to avoid it.”

“Since when are you concerned about Earth?” Clark’s eyebrows shot up. “No offence.”

“Some taken. I am of Earth, remember?”

“Apologies. But Batman will never trust you, not will most of the League.”

“It’s not their trust I’m interested in,” Carol crossed her arms. “I just want them to be ready when all hell breaks loose. I know most of you think the Spectrum silly and only pay attention to the Green, but trust me, if what I fear is coming indeed is, you’re going to need all the strength you can muster to keep your – _our_ – planet mostly untouched.”

Superman rubbed the bridge of his nose. “How soon?”

“Can’t say,” Sapphire shrugged her shoulders. “There are whispers already, but we’re talking light years of distance and a whole galaxy as a war theatre. Maybe a few years, maybe a decade. You can relax a bit; no one’s knocking on your door just yet.”

“Yet here you are. But it’s some relief, at least. Batman will have a plan, he always does.”

Carol smiled. “You admire him deeply, don’t you?”

“We work together. We disagree a lot, but he is someone we could all learn from.”

“The world’s finest,” Carol said suavely. Where is she going with this? “But that’s not how I meant it. I understand, what’s not to admire? The cunning, the brooding demeanor and that body in tight rubber…”

“That’s not rubber,” Superman shot her a warning look, a little unnerved at Carol’s precision. “And you don’t know him like that.”

“I don’t need to. Star Sapphires are love personified, I can see the reflection of him in you. And you, Superman, has absolutely lost your heart to the man.”

“I did not!”

“Don’t get so defensive, I approve.”

“I don’t care. This is my business, so stay away! I don’t know whose love you personify, but it’s certainly not mine!”

She raised hands in a surrendering gesture. “Fine, have it your way. Only trying to help, you know.”

The next five or so minutes passed in silence. Clark was visibly distressed: at this rate, everyone will know sooner then he’d work up the courage to talk to Bruce. Assuming he’d ever work it up. And what if he already knows? He’s always so observant, so he must know. And he doesn’t say anything so he won’t have to let Clark down, because he’s always so nice to him for no reason.

He broke the silence first, blushing as he spoke. “So… is it… the feeling…”

“Mutual?” Sapphire paused and gave some thought to the answer. “It’s not that simple. I didn’t get a good look at him, and mostly know about his heart from its reflection on yours… Sorry, what I see is hard to put into words. I’m trying to say, take what I’m going to tell you with a grain of salt. He doesn’t feel like you do, not yet, anyway. He’s attracted to you, yes, in the same way he’s attracted to most handsome men. A bit more to you, because you’re his type. He admires you for a reason I can’t put my finger on and sometimes he finds you endearing. So there’s potential there, but your love will not blossom unless and until one of you waters the seed. If your feeling isn’t pushed, it will inevitably die. Or it can grow in something that lasts for decades, if you choose. So choose.”

Clark didn’t know what he expected to hear, but it was certainly not this. Part of him regretted asking, because it made him responsible for his own happiness and guilty for not doing more. The intercom interrupted his thoughts.

“Superman,” said Batman. “Bring Sapphire to the conference room.”

“After you,” he gestured. “And Carol…”

“I won’t say a word,” she winked.

Now he had even more to think about once this was all over.

***

“Man of Steel saves steel factory workers” read the headline. By Clark Kent, no doubt. Man does need help with those. As much as Bruce enjoyed reading Clark’s articles, the headlines were always terrible. Is there a chance he does it on purpose, to discourage people from reading these? He was always humble. But no, Clark doesn’t make subtle decisions, it’s not his way. Superman is a battering ram in human form – or alien form, rather, and it is part of his charm.

Batman reclined in his chair and grabbed a cup of hot black tea Alfred had prepared. He was just getting ready for bed and reading news as part of the routine. Since recently, he always read all of Superman’s pieces: his writing was passionate and honest, sometimes to the point of bluntness, which felt like a gulp of fresh air in the world of sold-out media.

The article was a pretty straightforward piece, but Bruce still read it through and through. He couldn’t say why he was suddenly so interested, but something about the Man of Steel captured his attention. Despite all their differences and disagreements, Bruce found himself drawn to every opinion Clark had to offer.

Giving into sudden urge, he closed the laptop and got onto his phone. Superman has no social media, but Clark Kent has to; there’s no way to maintain the illusion of normalcy without it.

Here we go, Facebook. Clark Kent. Boring pic, boring info, boring everything, a few “Daily planet” reposts; several movie reviews – insufferably nice ones; anti-republican rant… aha! An Instagram link.

This is much more exciting. Bruce scrolled over a number of city skyline photos and a couple hiking trip carousels, and paused at a three weeks old beach photo.

The photo itself was of Clark just getting out of the water, holding a volleyball that, apparently, fell in. Bruce felt a bit uncomfortable with the feeling this picture brought up, but also a little excited. He shot a glance to the door, making sure it was shut, and returned eyes to the screen.

His hair, usually carefully styled with obscene amounts of gel, was now a wet mess, and Bruce imagined running his fingers through it, grabbing it firmly and Clark’s pleading blue eyes looking at him from the bottom up. He wondered how it would feel, to hold his face and kiss it greedily. As his thoughts were getting further into the gutter, Bruce undid the belt of the bathrobe and got rid of the boxer briefs. Lazily at first, he started stroking himself, concentrating on the fantasy.

Meanwhile in his head, Clark was already on his back, hands pinned to the bed and muscular chest raising and falling with heavy breaths. Bruce touched every curve he could see, ran his tongue along every crease he could find. He could almost feel the weight Superman’s legs on his shoulders, and then sliding down to circle Bruce’s waist.

In the picture, wet swimming shorts outlined an impressive manhood, and Batman spent more than a few seconds staring, his strokes becoming faster, the grip firmer. A first few drops of sweat formed on his temple.

Imagination has already turned Kent on all fours, with Bruce behind him. He delivered powerful thrusts, accentuated by muffled moans – for some reason Clark was gagged and seemed to enjoy it. Wayne couldn’t decide what to do with his hands, but finally settled on grabbing Clark’s hips to gain even more control over the situation. Imaginary Clark did not object, he arched his back and leaned toward his lover, moans becoming higher pitched with every thrust.

Bruce culminated on his stomach, closely avoiding messing up his robe. Heaving and sweaty, he went into the shower to clean up, followed by Clark Kent’s perfect digital smile.

_I need to talk to someone about this,_ he thought, getting busy with a bath pouf, while streams of hot water washed away the evidence of self-indulgence, _someone who knows so well, I won’t have to pretend._

It’s been some time since he and Oliver weren’t together. They did not work out as a couple, but from the ground of mutual understanding and acceptance rose a great friendship, one of the strongest bonds in Bruce’s life. Now, years after that whole deal, they occasionally got together for a dinner or a gym session to exchange news and vent.

“So, you got hots for the big man, huh?” Oliver summed up, watching Bruce doing squats. “Who can blame you? I just don’t see why it’s so big an issue? Take him out on a date and get it over with. And weren’t you dating Diana, you whore?”

Bruce let out a long breath, put a barbell back on the stand and turned to Ollie. “First of all, no. Diana and I are just friends with benefits. Were, I suppose, since she got her eye on the… doesn’t matter. Secondly, it’s not just that. I don’t think my attraction to Clark is purely sexual.”

“Five minutes ago you told me you jerked off to his picture, fantasizing about fucking him in at least three different positions, what are you talking about?”

Bruce didn’t answer, as he returned to his exercise. Oliver used this moment of silence to go on uninterrupted.

“No, actually, scratch that, I know what you mean. You’ve been working together a lot, you grew to actually like Clark and know you want intimacy beyond casual sex. But you won’t make any advances out of fear he doesn’t feel the same way, which is unsurprising, considering you’re always on his back, but instead of dealing with it, you’re going to give me the usual ‘I don’t want to endanger the mission” excuse. Stop me if I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong. Stop.” Bruce replied automatically. He was done here, so they moved to Oliver’s favorite salmon ladder. Well, Ollie did, for Bruce it was a leg day. “Am I really on his back? I didn’t notice.”

He had to wait for Queen to finish the first set before getting his answer.

“I’ve worked with both of you maybe a dozen times, and so far, every time Superman has an idea, you always criticize his plan or add suggestions. It’s annoying.”

“They’re good suggestions.”

“Not the point, Bruce. He isn’t one of your strays in need of guidance, so maybe try a different approach.”

I was always a pleasure to watch Oliver work out, but for the first time, Bruce had something on his mind that got in the way of that. He did note that his ex looked better than ever though. Or was it just nostalgia kicking in?

“Also, that is not just an excuse. Any emotional attachment is going to risk the mission, you know that.”

“If I wasn’t so tired, I’d smack you,” Oliver’s green eyes narrowed. “This is simply bullshit. If it wasn’t, we’d all be dead by now. Everyone dates on your beloved mission. You and I used to date, granted, it was before Justice League. You and Diana had a thing. Clark and Diana had a thing. Aquaman fucks whatever moves and dates whatever can move after that. Hal and Barry are an issue. Oh, Hal used to date the freaking Star Sapphire and lived to tell the tale. Laurel and I are together too. Hawkman and Hawkgirl are married, for fuck’s sake.”

“True, but…”

“I wasn’t finished. Everyone in the League knows what we signed up for. Everyone can take care of themselves. And as for Superman, he’s probably one of the hardest ones to kill, so I don’t think anything you can come up with about the dangers of personal attachment is going to sound very convincing. Are you going to do your leg curls or what?”

“Yes. And I’ll thank you to give me a few minutes of silence to think of a response,” Bruce said as he got onto the machine.

Ollie shrugged his shoulders and leaned on the seat of the machine behind Bruce’s back. “Sure. I’ll just stand over here and judge you silently.”

“You did always love to look down on me,” Bruce smiled playfully.

“I still do.”

A painfully familiar mischievous spark lit up in Oliver’s eyes. It grew easier over time to stay away from each other, to not give into momentary desires of flesh, but the attraction did not go away completely, so he had to be careful now. It never ended painlessly, he knew that, he got burned like that before, but to stop teasing meant to lose in yet another imaginary competition neither of them knew the rules of.

“Think of anything?”

“No. So you suggest I act on it and see how it plays out? Even though there’s a fat chance he doesn’t feel the same way?”

“That’s what _you_ suggest,” archer pointed out. “I think you should have a long conversation with yourself about what is it you actually want from Clark. And if you decide to proceed and stop patronizing him at every turn, I think he won’t be able to resist. You are likeable, Bruce. You’re even loveable, despite what you may think. Believe me, I know.”

“Got it. Thanks.”

“Don’t sweat it. Want to spar?”

“Only if you promise not to go soft on me,” Bruce warned, before he realized what he just said. And sure enough…

“Bruce,” Oliver raised his hands, assuming fighting stance, his face widening in a grin. Bruce mirrored his pose. “I’d never go soft on you.”

“Cheeky bastard.”

Jokes aside, Oliver was a difficult opponent, with skills in hand-to hand that closely rivaled Batman’s. When they finally finished and dropped on the mats exhausted, the sun was already beginning to set over Gotham.

“So how are things with you?” Bruce suddenly realized that all this time they only talked about him. “Anything new?”

“Oh, you know, just questioning my entire MO all over again, both as a CEO and vigilante. Also, I don’t think Dinah and I are going to work and I have no idea how to tell her. To top it all off, League business starts to interfere with Star City business too much and I think I’m going to leave one of them behind.”

“Which one?”

“No idea yet.”

“I mean, which one you want to talk about first?” he replied, putting a hand on Ollie’s shoulder.

“None for now. I don’t think I can put any of those into words that make any sense, even for you.”

Bruce pulled a doubtful face.

“No, I mean it, I need some time to think on them before asking for advice. How about dinner in two weeks? I’ll tell you everything.”

“Of course. And if you need to talk earlier, my door is always open for you. Call or come any time.”

“Sure. Just let me know if I need to knock first.”

***

The investigation took Clark to the shed not far from Gotham bay. The woman he tracked down had something to do with the missing kids and it belonged to her. It wasn’t particularly interesting from the outside, but the floor was lined with lead, obscuring Superman’s x-ray vision. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the sounds, but none were coming from the shed. Strangely, he could hear an approaching heartbeat from behind the trees.

“I should’ve guessed you’d be here. They’ve been missing from Gotham as well?” he said, watching as Batman approached from behind the tree line.

“Superman?” Bats sounded impressed. Clark couldn’t decide whether to be proud or insulted. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“The missing kids are somehow connected to Professor Rance. This place belongs to her, I thought I’d check it out.”

“Him. It’s one of Scarecrow’s aliases. Picked anything up?”

“Really? Why would he do that?”

“The list of what Scarecrow wouldn’t do isn’t very long. Again, did you pick anything up? Can you tell what’s inside?”

“No. Lead panels beneath floorboards. And I can’t hear anything in there too.”

“There are ways to soundproof rooms even from you,” Batman didn’t sound surprised.

“And of course you would know.”

“I researched you.”

“Flattered,” Clark retorted. He wasn’t, in fact. If Batman wasn’t so damn attractive, he’d be scary. Sometimes, Kal noticed the similarities between him and Lex and shuddered. “So do we go in?”

“I’ve got it. Go away.”

“B…”

“Scarecrow is mine.”

“You don’t know what’s in there. Do you really want me to leave or just playing it cool?”

Bruce inhaled sharply and was about to tell him off, but suddenly changed his mind. This was exactly what Oliver talked about, although Bruce imagined being nicer in different circumstances. He reached into his belt, producing two tiny devices.

“Nose filters,” he explained. “Scarecrow’s fear gas can be absorbed through skin or mucous membranes, but they should give us some time. You get gassed, I’m bringing you down. Let let’s go. Quietly.”

Clark just sighed. It didn’t take long to locate the trapdoor that lead beneath the house. What they didn’t expect was long tunnel spiraling downwards. It must be connected to a sewer somehow, judging by the smell.

“So how well do you know this Scarecrow?”

“And you didn’t think to ask that before coming to his den?”

“You two must have went to the same charm school,” snapped Clark.

“Don’t take my tone personally. I get mean when I’m tired, frustrated or focused on something else,” surprisingly, Bruce didn’t have a clever remark.

“Is that an apology?”

“It’s the closest you’ll get to one,” Bruce felt a little better, hearing Superman’s voice ease a bit. Raising one teen after another, barbs became automatic. He did realize Clark was his equal, not sidekick. “Now, about Scarecrow. Real name Jonathan Crane. Brilliant biochemist. Fights with a scythe, but prefers to incapacitate victims with his formula first. Alfred will sent you a dossier.”

“Thanks. Wait!” he suddenly stopped. “There are few people in the next room.”

Bruce stopped to analyze, but his suit sensors weren’t picking anything up. Whoever designed this place wanted to conceal it from everything. He’d have to come back and find out exactly how Crane was fooling both Superman’s heightened senses and his tech. He gestured towards the door.

“We won’t come in unnoticed. Might as well make an entrance.”

The doors flew open under a powerful blow. Superman went in first, soaring up to the high ceiling, prepared to swoop down on anyone who made a move. Batman followed, trying to keep to the shadows, left hand closer to the batarangs on the belt. But their entrance was met only with a high-pitched scream and then silence.

The room was spacious, but dirty, lit up by a dim yellow light bulb hanging directly from the ceiling. By the left wall stood three animal cages, the kind you’d see in circus, just much smaller. Two were occupied, one empty.

Clark landed and wanted to go break the locks, but Bruce stopped him with a motion. In the first cage sat a girl, approximately six years old, hugging a dirty and torn teddy bear. In the next – a boy, younger by a year or so. Both of them turned away and hid their faces in their knees. Batman carefully picked the simple lock one the cage with a girl, visibly trying to make as little noise as he could. Again, Clark tried to go in and help her, and again Bruce stopped him, with a gesture suggesting he should check the rest of the room.

Meanwhile, Bruce sat on crossed legs in front of an open door, not attempting to get closer. When he spoke, his voice slid into soft comfortable baritone usually reserved for Bruce Wayne.

“Hello there. My name’s Batman. It’s all right. You’re safe now.”

Answer came as an uncontrollable sobbing. He waited a few moments.

“Nothing’s going to hurt you anymore. Is it okay if I just sit here?”

Children turned their head to him. The boy went on crying, but the girl sniffled a few times and went quiet, hugging her torn up toy.

“Do you have a name?” he asked. The girl didn’t answer, just hid her face again. He pointed to her bear. “It’s okay. Does he have a name?”

Bruce, of course, knew all the names on his case. The girl was Lily. One of the boys was Tom and the other Justin, they only needed to find out which is which, but vigilante wouldn’t spook her with that knowledge.

“P-p-p-pumpkin,” she said, still sniffling, then bit her lip, as if afraid of her own voice.

“A smart name. Did you come up with it yourself?”

“Y-y-es.”

“I’m going to need you to be strong for Pumpkin. Can you do that?” She slowly nodded.

“Good. Can Pumpkin tell me if you are hurt? Or the boy?”

“My a-arms h-h-hurt,” the boy stopped crying and tried to speak. And teeth. And L-l-lily bit h-h-her t-t-tongue!”

“I’m o-o-okay,” the girl started to calm down. “He took Tom! He took Tom!”

“Nothing bad will happen to Tom. I’m here. I will protect you,” Batman reassured her. He gestured Clark to approach.

“Would you like to come closer? I promise I will not touch you.”

Lily was still scared, but clearly not of him. She crawled out into the light, and both heroes could see trek marks along her forearms. Injection sites.

“See? Nothing to be afraid of. Would you like a candy?”

He reached into his belt and produced a couple of sweets. Bruce opened his palm, inviting her to take it. She didn’t.

“Would your friend like one? What’s your name?” he asked the boy, who now completely stopped crying and was watching them carefully.

“Justin,” he said, reaching out for the candy through grate bars.

“Okay Justin. I’m here with my friend Superman. You know Superman, right?” The boy nodded. Figures, he and Tom were the ones from Metropolis. “He can come and open the door for you, if you’re okay with it.”

Only when the boy nodded again, he let Superman break the lock. Once the cage was open, the boy ran right past him to hang on Batman’s neck. Lily made a few steps closer, but didn’t join him.

“Cool, huh?” he nodded to the lock which was crumpled like paper. “Now, is Tom that way?”

He pointed to the door, but, to his surprise, Lily shook her hear.

“There’s a door in the wall there,” she pointed. “You can’t see it like this, but he can. And there’s white room and it h-h-hurts…”

She started sobbing again, but this time so close to Batman that he felt it was okay to comfort her.

“Shush, it’s okay,” he repeated again. “You’re not going there. Ever. Not you, not Justin and not Pumpkin.”

When she finally calmed down, he pointed them towards Clark.

“If you come to Superman, he will take you where it’s safe. He will take care of you, okay?”

“But…” Clark wanted to object, but changed his mind under Batman’s stare. “Yes, I will.”

Children did not go as readily to Clark as they did to him, but eventually they decided he was trustworthy. Clark carefully picked up a kid in each hand.

“Now,” Batman returned to his usual commanding tone. “You will fly out the way we came. Once you have signal, alert the police, give them coordinates, then contact Alfred and fly them to Gotham General. Then call Al, he’ll take care of hospital bills. And…”

“I got it.”

“And don’t…”

“I said, I’ve got it. Really. Go.”

In twenty minutes Superman landed near the ambulance bay of Gotham general. One of the crews just finished handing off a patient and were heading to their rig, but saw him and turned around and helped make way through the crowded ER. His appearance made quite a fuss at first, and a few people tried to talk to him, but were chased away by a tall dark-skinned woman in maroon scrubs who turned out to be charge nurse.

One look at the dirty and shaking kids was enough to realize they couldn’t wait. She looked at Clark with barely contained curiosity, but decided to focus on the patient.

“Is the doctor going to be here soon?” he asked as soon as they were in exam room.

“As soon as she’s available,” nurse answered calmly. “Please sit them down, I need to do a quick exam. And tell me what happened.”

Lily and Justin would not let go of him. Bright, crowded emergency room was too much to handle right now. “But they need care now!”

“I am here, aren’t I?” her voice was still calm, but very firm. Clark thought she reminded him of Mary Poppins. “This is Friday night at Gotham General, Superman. We’re overcrowded and understaffed. And the patients, distressed as they may be, are in one piece and not actively dying. The doctors will see them as soon as they can. Now, what happened to them?”

He told her.

“Scarecrow?” she frowned. “That mother… of Jesus. Weren’t there three missing?”

“Batman’s bringing Tom.”

“Good. I hope he’s good with kids.”

“You’ve no idea. Do you have anything to calm them down?”

“I can’t in good conscious sedate them. There’s no telling how much of that vile toxin is still in them and how it will react to the drugs. We’ll do in once there’s enough staff present to handle an emergency.”

“Plus, they won’t be too glad to see another needle,” Clark said after some thought.

“It’s not the eighties, Superman, we have sedatives in syrups,” she smiled. “I need to go call their parents and GCPD. Please stay at least until I come back.”

It took some time to finish up at the hospital. When Superman finally returned to the shed, Batman was already done. An ambulance crew and a couple of officers were loading what appeared to be a pile of rags with unnaturally twisted extremities into the rig. Bruce did not go easy on the Scarecrow. The place was lit up with red and blue lights, but Batman was nowhere to be seen.

Clark eventually heard him making his way to the Batmobile.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, hovering a few inches above ground. Batman jumped a bit at his voice. That was weird.

“Yes,” Bat’s voice was jerky, and when he turned Clark could see beads of sweat on his face. “Kid was unconscious, medics took him. I need to get home.”

“Did you get gassed?”

“Yes. A bit. I have the antidote, but Crane modified the formula. It’s not working as well as it should.”

“I see that.”

“I need to get home.” Superman could hear Bruce’s heartbeat fasten. Not dangerously so, but it still couldn’t be good.

“You’re not driving in that condition,” he said decisively.

“Alfred can remote pilot the car.”

“And if you freak out in the meantime, you’ll override it. No,” he repeated. Usually it was difficult to stand up to Batman. The man could always find a better argument; just not tonight, apparently. “I’ll get you home.”

“You’re not carrying me. I hate it when you do that.”

“Tough luck, I’m all out of piggyback rides,” Superman started to get annoyed.

“Fine. But let no one see us,” it seemed like Bruce wanted to object or argue, but the common sense and the antidote must have overridden the toxin. “Al, did you get all that?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get the Batmobile home and prep the med bay,” Clark heard from somewhere inside the cowl.

He picked Bruce up gently, careful not to touch where he really wanted to. The night sky met them with dry and chilly air, but Batman had other things on his mind and Clark was never bothered by that. Eventually Wayne threw his arms around Clark’s neck for more comfort, and all Superman could think of is how he could get used to that and how he wished it happened in different scenario.

“Not the front door,” he warned as they approached the manor. “Descend around the back, then through a cave. You know the way.”

In a few moments, they landed in a Batcave. Clark opened his arms, allowing Bruce to slide out on his own. Surely he wouldn’t appreciate being put somewhere.

“All set. Do you… need me to stay?” he didn’t exactly want to see him in this state, but just leaving seemed wrong.

“No.”

“Okay, then,” Clark rose into the air.

“Clark,” Bruce didn’t turn around and didn’t stop walking. “Thank you. For everything.”

He was already too far to answer, but a warm feeling in his chest mixed with the night wind and made him almost want to sing as he crossed the sky towards Metropolis.


	2. Call me Kal-El

It was one of those times when Clark couldn’t help but pace across the room. He did it every time he was tired but needed to think – a habit picked from Pa’ Kent.

Despite his assurances, the crush didn’t pass. In fact, it was growing stronger with each passing day. The more time he and Bruce spent together, on missions or otherwise, the harder it was to get the annoying thought out of his head. And the longer he waited, the dirtier the thought became. And now Bruce was actually nicer to him than ever before. He was always kind, if a bit introverted and rough around the ages, but now he started listening more often and more attentively, he refrained from advice and appeared generally interested in Clark’s opinion.

And so Clark was falling for him even more. He knew he risked getting smashed and broken if he didn’t slow down, but at this point reasonable thinking was not an option.

He threw himself on the bed, face down, and eager imagination readily showed him an image of naked Bruce Wayne, lying on his stomach right next to him, smiling as he slept. Clark groaned, so much he wanted that image to be true.

Loud _ding!_ of the text message broke the train of his thoughts that was starting going way more south than mama would like.

“Hi! Busy?” a text from Bruce sent Clark’s heart racing.

Clark resisted an urge to respond that very second and instead forced himself to take five deep breaths. It didn’t help much. “Not really. What did you have in mind?”

_typing…_

_typing…_

God damn you, are you writing a thesis up there?

“It’s the season’s opening at Gotham City Opera tomorrow. They’re doing Written on skin. I’ve donated generously in the last few years, so they’ve sent me an invitation. Want to be my plus one?”

Clark tried, but could not resist a little squeal. Is he for real? Is it like a date? Probably not, why would it be? But then again, why would Bruce ask him, of all people? He’s probably just being nice and is actually hoping Clark would decline… isn’t he?

“Wow. That’s random. Yeah, sure, I’d like to go.”

_typing…_

“Wait, that’s all the way in Gotham!” he sent that right before fully processing it and actually managed to hear Bruce’s tired sigh in his mind.

_typing…_

“That won’t be a problem for you though, right? You can stay at my mansion.”

Clark shot a quick glance at his wardrobe.

“OK, but I don’t have anything nice enough to wear. Everyone will judge you.”

“Like I care. What size do you wear? I’ll arrange something. Gotta run. Be there at 4.”

Naturally, Clark was late. First he took too long in the shower shaving and doing his hair, then lost the track of time checking email and social media accounts and then finally had to fly to Gotham and look for a discreet spot to change into civilian clothes. Sure, Wayne mansion was remote enough, but he knew just how annoyingly determined some media people were and in the age of cell phone cameras that made him even more paranoid.

Alfred answered the door, which took Clark aback for a moment. He somehow thought it’d be Bruce. Clark liked Alfred for his manners, nonchalant demeanor and wit, but he was a bit uncomfortable talking to him. It was simpler when butler coordinated them on missions, which happened more often now, then all rules and propriety went away. In real unmasked life, Alfred insisted on the etiquette Clark didn’t entirely know.

“Um, hi, Alfred,” Clark said after a pause, then reached for a handshake. “Sorry I’m late. Is Bruce home?”

Alfred ignored the hand with a sigh and instead moved to the side, inviting Clark in. “Good evening, Mr. Kent, do come in. Don’t worry, you’re still with the “fashionably late”, although it’s a tight fit. Master Bruce is occupied at the moment, he’ll meet you when it’s time to head out.”

“Oh, okay.”

Clark came in and looked around. Nothing has changed since the last time he was here. It felt like nothing ever changes in Wayne manor, at least visibly. It was also quiet. He had to resist the urge to knock a vase off the table just to break the silence, to hear the echo reverberate from hollow suits of armor that decorated niches in the walls.

“Master Bruce mentioned you’d need a change of clothes. I took a liberty of ordering a few acceptable options. If you please follow me…”

Alfred then proceeded upstairs and led Clark to one of the guest rooms. Kent immediately felt more at ease in the space with normal-height ceiling. On the bed there laid almost a dozen neatly packed suits and shirts, with a shining array of cufflinks and watches.

“You bought all of these…?” Superman stopped in his tracks, overcome by a sudden desire to fly away. “That’s…”

“Nonsense,” butler finished for him. “I ordered them for a fitting. Master Bruce will pay for the things you choose, the rest I will send back. Watches and cufflinks are his collection.”

Right, same rules don’t apply to the one percent. It’s not like any of these boutiques can doubt Bruce Wayne will pay up. Besides, having him wear their brand has to be an advertisement in itself. Clark looked at the brand names and couldn’t recognize half of them. The other half he knew, but they way off his pay level. He had to forcibly remind himself, that this is not a large sum for Bruce, that he is not him showing off, just being nice the way he knows how.

“Here you go. Choose whatever you like, I’ll be downstairs. Would you like anything to eat before heading out?”

“No, thank you, I’m not hungry.” Now that was a lie, he was just way too nervous to eat. And still uncomfortable with people serving him food.

“You’re not hungry now,” Alfred warned in kind, but stern tone. “It’ll be at least three hours before you can get anything in you after heading out.”

“Some tea might be nice,” Clark insisted. He looked to the bed in confusion. “And I could use some help with these, actually, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Alfred’s smile got really warm. “Let’s see…”

He examined the suits carefully. Some he took out and put up against Clark’s chest, others – dismissed just by looking at them still folded in a bag.

“Since you’re going to the opera and not a business meeting, you won’t need these,” he put aside four suits. Then, after a moment, added another one. “White’s not really your color. Try on what is left and see which ones suit you best. I’ll bring tea in a minute.”

The process took less than Clark feared. A couple more pieces were slightly off-size, and from what was left, Superman quickly favored a dark blue two-piece suit and a navy shirt with silver buttons. He exchanged his watch for one of Bruce’s and was just putting on cufflinks when Alfred came back. Butler looked him over, nodded approvingly, then offered him another set that actually did fit better. Choosing shoes was even quicker, and Clark still got half an hour left.

Alfred did bring so toast with jam anyway, and he cut it into tiny pieces you could eat in one bite, for which Clark was grateful. Hunger was starting to set, but he wouldn’t dare to risk putting a stain on the suit.

Clark could hear Bruce’s footsteps long before the knock on the door.

“You look dashing,” Bruce said instead of a greeting. “Not that I’m surprised.”

Clark blushed just a bit. At this point, it felt like a genuine date, even his romantic anxiety could not convince him otherwise. His heart was doing an exited dance. “Look who’s talking. I hope you don’t mind that I’ve decided against a tie.”

“So did I,” Bruce vaguely gestured towards the unbuttoned collar of his shirt, “It’s just informal enough that we can get away without wearing one.”

Alfred took them to the opera in a limo, and Bruce’s calm and reassuring demeanor along with a glass of champagne washed away most of his uncomfortable feeling of not belonging. But even that didn’t prepare Clark for the blinding flashes of dozens of cameras as he got out. He was usually on the other side of the lens, and he just… froze.

“Smile for the cameras,” Bruce whispered, as he helped him get out of the car. “It’s a premiere, and you’re the most handsome piece on tonight’s chessboard.”

To make Superman uncomfortable you had to say something dirty, bordering on vile. In other words, any part of Aquaman’s daily lexicon. Unfortunately, Clark Kent did not share that trait, he shied too easily. Tete-a-tete it was adorable, but publically quite inconvenient sometimes.

“Sorry,” Clark gave a shy wave to the cameras. “That’s just unexpected, that’s all.”

Bruce did notice his discomfort though, and tried to get them through red carpet as fast as it’d be acceptable. One of the journalists, a blonde woman in a dark coat managed to draw his attention.

“Mister Wayne!” She waved at him vigorously. Bruce approached. “I see you’ve brought a friend with you, care to introduce him to Gotham?”

“No idea what you’re talking about, Miss…?”

“Vicki Vale. What I meant to ask is who’s this strapping young man who shared the ride with you?”

Bruce grinned and gave Clark a look. “Oh, this strapping young man? That’s my date.”

Reporter raised an eyebrow. “Another billionaire from out of town?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Clark finally composed himself and gently, but firmly steered Bruce towards the entrance.

“You certainly have a type, Mister Wayne!” Vicki yelled from behind.

Once inside, it was significantly calmer and quieter. Vestibule was filled with ladies in exquisite dresses taking off their coats and gentlemen trying to be gallant and helping them. Batman spotted a few high-profile criminal he wouldn’t mind meeting in another suit.

“Hey, did you really mean that?” Clark asked and held his breath.

“About…?”

“A date. Or were you just goofing around?”

“I’m not the type,” Bruce smiled, offering his hand to Clark. He smiled, seeing Superman’s relief at his answer. “Yes, I was serious. I hope you are too.”

“And what was that about you having a type?” Clark suddenly remembered.

Bruce gave him a puzzled look and whispered. “Oliver Queen and I used to date. Well before the Justice League. Didn’t you know?”

“Oh yes, because he and you are a pair of oversharers.”

“Do I detect a note of sarcasm?” Was Clark getting comfortable or a bit jealous? Which one would be nicer? “Or, more likely, a gallon? Aren’t you supposed to be a journalist or something?”

Clark didn’t answer and Bruce bit his tongue: sarcasm was only attractive in moderation.

Before the opera itself, there was some mingling to be done. Events like these weren’t solely about the art. Theatre needed generous donations and Gotham’s finest sometimes needed a pretense to discuss shady business. It was mostly Bruce who did the mingling though, Clark only half-listened and tried to eavesdrop on people who looked particularly out of place.

“Hey, I thought that grey man you just talked with sounded familiar, but I can’t place him. Where could I’ve heard his voice?”

“From behind a mask, most likely,” Bruce did not seem surprised. “That’s Slade Wilson, aka Deathstroke.”

“And you talk about weather with him!?”

“We talked about education initiatives for low-income gothamites, actually. Oh, don’t be surprised, they are all about charity and care for the poor when in public. Besides, it’s Batman who has a reason to be upset with him, and that’s why Bruce Wayne mustn’t.”

Clark rubbed his brow. Bruce separated his lives, but not personas. It was weird. The man keeping vigil in Watchtower was nothing like the one grinning on cameras and shaking hands down here. Clark once saw Sichuan opera where actor was changing mask so quickly, he’d never catch it if it weren’t for super-speed. It was like this with Batman and Bruce Wayne. But which mask was the real him?

“No, I know that. But Deathstroke? Hasn’t he tried to kill you like… two dozen times?”

“Closer to three. But Slade is better than most, if the term even applies to gun for hire. Anyway, let me introduce you to someone who’s not a criminal – Valentina Vercelli, head of the board of directors of one of Gotham hospitals…”

Pretty soon Clark’s head was buzzing with names and titles, so he was grateful when the opera finally started. He didn’t know much about art, and what little he knew was from Diana, but well-done pieces were hard not to enjoy. The rest of his anxiety washed away by loud, but gentle voices. As they sat on the balcony, Superman looked at Bruce’s hand time and again, but he didn’t move. After the entr’acte, Clark gave up and grabbed his hand. Bruce didn’t object, just gave a tiny smile with a corner of his mouth, and he instantly knew he was ignored on purpose.

“Do you want to meet the singers?” Bruce asked, excited.

“No, not really. I’d rather just go somewhere.”

“You didn’t like it, did you?” the disappointment in Bruce’s voice was more sensed than heard.

“No, no, I enjoyed the singing and stuff,” Clark was careful not to answer too quickly. He did enjoy it, in fact, but it was difficult to admit that he spent at least half the time waiting for Bruce to take his hand. God, even he wasn’t normally such a schoolgirl! “It’s just… My extroversion is at an end. I just want the rest of the evening to us.”

“Okay, let’s go then. I think Alfred’s returned by now.”

That he did.

“Where to?” he asked in his usual plain voice.

Bruce looked at him and raised an eyebrow, Clark barely restrained himself from biting his lip.

“I was thinking of flying to some rooftop or something, I don’t know.”

“Wayne Tower, Alfred. The view should be spectacular. Do we have some champagne here?”

“Fridge is where it’s always been,” butler’s brand name sarcasm seeped in. “Will you need some blankets? There nothing but marble and metal on the roof.”

“It’s the middle of May, Al.”

“Not up there it isn’t!”

“Thanks, we’ll take blankets,” Clark cut in. The thought of ruining a suit that seemed more expensive than he makes in a month mortified him. Plus, the cold wasn’t exactly dangerous to him, not like to normal people, but it was still unpleasant. Kara did suggest moving the Fortress of Solitude somewhere more tropical. Should’ve listened.

“In a compartment under your seat, Mister Kent.”

The elevator didn’t go all the way up, so they had to climb a few last sets of stairs. This part of the building was barely used, stale air smelling of asbestos and old paint. When the doors opened, a breath of cool night air seemed all the more refreshing.

Bruce wasn’t mistaken: the view was impressive indeed. From up here Gotham looked like a swarm of fireflies caught in a glowing net of streets. Clark wondered if humans could even hear what’s going on down below.

They spread the blanket near one of the large gargoyles resting near the edge.

“I must say I was surprised to see you freeze in front of the camera,” Bruce said. “I thought Superman would be used to the lenses.”

“Oh, he is. Clark Kent, however…” he paused for a moment. “Sorry, I just didn’t know how to behave, I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

Bruce raised his hand in protest. “You’ll have to work harder than that to embarrass me. Don’t apologize, I actually thought it was adorable.”

“That makes one of us. You know, I’ve never actually seen this side of you.”

“Em… Which one?”

“Mingling, hand-shaking, small-talk making side.”

“You mean Bruce Wayne? Yes, well, I’m more me when I’m Batman.”

Bats in a sharing mood? Not wasting this chance. “Come on, you have to enjoy it at least a little bit. It was fun seeing you less… brooding.”

“Shush, don’t tell anyone,” Bruce laughed and moved a bit closer. “I enjoy it when you’re around. The rest of that lot I can do without.”

Batman popped champagne and offered him a bottle.

“Don’t you ever wish you could just be Bruce Wayne?”

“No. Bruce Wayne and Batman are not separate for me. It’s not like one of them is true and the other one is a mask. I’m me, and they are just faces the world sees. I want to make the world better, and I try by different means. Why? Do you wish to just be Clark?”

He paused and took another sip.

“Sometimes. I don’t know. Superman can be… too much. The life of Clark Kent is appealingly simple. It’d be nice to just release control.”

Bruce leaned in so Clark could feel his breath by the ear. It shouldn’t be this hot up here, should it? “Do you like to give up control? We can make that happen.”

“I’m… That… depends…”

“Are you blushing?” Bruce seemed excited by the idea. He traced Clark’s cheek with his thumb and Superman held his breath for a second. “I can’t tell in the dark. Wait, you are!”

Clark’s blood was pounding so loudly in his ears, he couldn’t hear anything at all. He looked at Bruce’s handsome face, paler than usual in electric light of nocturnal Gotham, and some part of his wanted to continue their heart to heart, but that voice was quickly silenced. He closed his eyes and leaned in.

Bruce did not kiss like he imagined. He was forceful, yes, but not overwhelming. It felt like he offered Clark a way back from any given moment. Recede, retreat, refrain and it’ll be over. Not that Clark was ever going to, but the sensation was liberating, somehow.

The arousal was palpable, both figuratively and literally. Bruce pulled Clark’s hair, exposed his neck, started kissing it, and used his other hand to slide into his underwear. Superman felt a palm squeezing his butt and decided exactly what was going to happen next.

Bruce liked the sensation he was getting. A strong, trained body so malleable, so obedient. When Clark finally dropped to his knees and rubbed his cheek against a strained fabric he let out an anticipant moan.

“I’m not… very… experienced,” Clark warned him struggling with Bruce’s belt.

“It’s okay.”

“I mean I’ll need… directions,” he finally managed to pull down his boxers and a bit awkwardly traced his tongue along Bruce’s shaft.

Bruce ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ll be happy to provide them.”

Not very experienced, true, but very eager. Combined with the fact that Bruce has been dreaming about this, it brought all the satisfaction he needed. Besides, the actual skill matters more when you’re teenagers or a little older. At their more mature age, men learn how to listen to their lover, see what works and keep at it, instead of frantically trying to reenact pornos. Well, only those men who aren’t narcissistic morons, that is.

Bruce kept his hands on Clark’s head, helping him keep the rhythm, and couldn’t believe it was happening. He was on a roof of the tower overlooking Gotham with one of the most handsome men he’s ever met. And not just some random man, his friend, and partner, and a hero. A man whose kindness and compassion he admired long before Bruce managed to admit attraction even to himself. Man he fantasized about for some time now, who apparently felt the same way about him. And that man was on his knees before him, putting a lot of effort into pleasing him.

Blood rushed to Bruce’s head and he started to make thrusts. Clark must have felt him becoming even tenser and doubled his effort.

“I’m close,” he rasped out. Superman ignored it. “Are you sure?”

Bruce took no response as a yes. Feeling that wave of tension and release build up in his stomach, he made Clark back off a bit, grabbed his cock and started speeding the process along. It took only a few touches before he shot his load with a loud moan.

“You swallowed all of it, didn’t you?” he asked, putting on his pants and helping Clark up. “That was hot.”

Clark rummaged through his pockets looking for a handkerchief, before remembering the suit was brand new and he didn’t bring one. Bruce offered his.

“Thanks,” Clark said, trying to clean up his face. “Yes, I… liked it too. So what do we do now?”

“Now,” Bruce took the handkerchief and got a few missed spots. “We’ll go to Wayne Manor. You can’t expect me to let you go so soon and without an orgasm.”

“I can fly us there, if you like,” Clark was visibly on edge right now.

“What, you get a bit of action and to hell with being careful? Uh-uh. We’ll call a cab. Plus, a bit of wait will be good for you.”

“I’ve waited long enough. Just admit that you need some rest.”

“Clark Kent, if you keep provoking me, I will bend you over the ledge and fuck your sweet Kansas ass so hard that you’ll need rubber bands to keep your legs together for the next week, capiche?”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Clark put his arms around him and they shared a long and greedy kiss.

“Now let’s go.”

By the time they were back at the manor, Bruce could see how initial burst of desire has passed, and how doubt started to settle in. He was tempted to reignite it aggressively, to dive into the same lust that overcame them on the roof of Wayne Tower and lug away Clark. But by experience he knew that that only works well with long-time lovers or one night stands. And since Clark was neither, he decided to be patient.

Bruce steered the conversation into the risqué zone, and once he felt Clark was ready, started slowly throwing more wood into the fire. They kissed and fondled each other, and the farther they went, the more initiative Clark showed. His eyes widened when he saw all of Bruce’s scars up close, but he didn’t say anything.

Eventually Bruce felt they needed to move on, before both got tired of foreplay. He laid now naked Clark down on his stomach and lowered his face between the cheeks. Surprised and jerky moaning told him he was moving in the right direction. Every time he paused to take a breath, he saw how Superman lets go of the sheets he grabbed the moment before.

Clark was panting, red-faced and sweaty. Bruce lied on top, whispering into his ear. “Have you done this before?”

“Only… a few times…” Clark heaved. Bruce’s weight wasn’t a problem to handle, but at this moment he was on edge. His own erect cock was rubbing against the sheets and he had to constantly adjust position to keep comfortable. “A while ago…”

“I’ll go slowly,” Bruce reassured him. “Start with one finger and work my way up to three. Only then I’ll try and go in. If you feel uncomfortable at any point, if I go too fast or too soon or too much, don’t be a hero, tell me. Okay?”

“Yes,” he nodded.

“Good. Now here’s lube. It’s cold.”

Bruce placed a pillow under Clark’s hips and started working. Superman took fingering like a champ. First entry brought a moment of visible discomfort, which repeated every time Bruce added another finger, but after a moment Clark closed his eyes and lost himself in rhythmical movements. He liked two fingers best, and Bruce took a mental note for the future.

“Now Clark,” Bruce warned as he added more lube. “Are you ready? Relax. Just breathe out and let that tension go.”

“I’m sorry, I’m trying.” This wasn’t so difficult before. Then again, it was a while ago and Bruce was far better endowed. “Here try again.”

“Okay, I see that it hurts,” Bruce pulled away. “How about a little more stretching?”

He got his lover all warmed up and tried again.

“You are so tense, Clark. I know it’s of little help, but try and relax. It might hurt at first, but it’ll be worth it after, I promise you.”

“Yes, I know, I’m trying,” Clark responded apologetically after another failed attempt. “I’m sorry, B, I can only relax so much and that won’t be enough for you.”

“Don’t apologize, everything’s fine,” Bruce flipped him over and continued with foreplay. “We’re in no rush, we can do this any other time when you’re ready.”

“I just… didn’t picture our first time like that.”

“Our first time isn’t over, Clark. There’s a lot of other things we can do. Do you want to top?”

“Not really.”

“Then how about yet another round with two fingers? That seems to work for you. You can close your eyes and imagine it’s my dick, and I can lay here and imagine how great and tight you’ll feel once we stretch you enough. Huh?”

“Yes please,” Clark adjust his hips again, making for easier access. “Just stay like that. I like looking at your face.”

At this point Clark was so primed it only took him five minutes to climax hands-free. He then lowered his head and helped Bruce like on the roof.

“Well, I’m starting to think you’re just hungry,” Batman chuckled when he saw him swallowing. “Lucky me.”

“That was… great,” Clark sighed. “It’s been some time since it was this great.”

Bats didn’t answer, just pointed to the shower door.

“Listen, about the… I really don’t know what’s wrong, I…”

“For fuck’s sake. We had great sex, and I fully intend to do so again, and we’ll do everything if and when you’re ready. I’m fine, Clark. Stop apologizing for that, you did nothing wrong. Now get in the water!”

***

Despite Bruce’s reassurance, Clark still didn’t feel at ease. The worst part was, in his head he knew Bruce was right, but the nasty feeling wormed at him all morning. So much so, that he decided to ask for advice.

He found Hal and Barry in one of Watchtower lounges, playing cards. With how much Hal was away, especially after Carol’s warning, Barry put a lot of mind into spending as much time together as possible.

Frankly, he’s prefer to confront Barry alone: Hal could be insufferable sometimes. Clark was building up courage for a few days as it is, and the only reason he was able to gather enough, was guilt. Still, it didn’t make the next part any easier, and he almost turned away twice on the way here.

On the other hand, Hal and Barry were the longest dating homosexual couple in the League so far, and Barry’s lighthearted demeanor made him easy to approach. He could ask Arthur, of course, but didn’t feel like being the butt of all his ass-jokes for a week.

“Hey, guys.”

“Hey, Supes. Care to join us?” Hal gestured towards the cards.

“I’m good, thanks,” he took a stool and straddled it. “I wanted to talk to you, actually. It’s kind of personal.”

“Em, yeah, sure,” Barry, being a bit more considerate of the two, put his cards down. “What about?”

Clark took a breath.

“You see, I’ve started seeing someone recently…”

“Good for you.”

“Hal, please let the man speak.”

“Sorry.”

“Anyway, I’ve been seeing someone, and we’ve encountered some problems while… eh…”

“Bumping nasties?” Green Lantern suggested. “What kind of problems? You need a scheme or something?”

He waved his hand and the ring on his finger produced a bright light construct. It depicted two men quite busy with each other. They didn’t have faces or anything, but the top one sported oh so familiar pointy ears. Clark blushed.

He got up to leave. “Okay, that was a mistake. Sorry to have bothered you.”

Before he reached the door, Barry sped forward to block the path. “Wait! Don’t pay attention to Hal, he’s being a jackass. Please, ask.”

He sat down on the couch and invited Clark to join him. Superman took a long breath and decided to get the embarrassing part over with quickly.

“See,” he struggled to find words. “It’s when we get to the… penetrating part… there’s… no way to relax and it hurts way more than it should.”

“I don’t understand. You take much worse when you’re fighting. The last time Lobo came around, even your resilience was tested.”

“It’s not the same,” Barry answered instead of him. “When you’re in bed, you expect something different compared to a fight. And there are degrees to which even anal should be uncomfortable. I mean, if it hurts more than it pleases, then it’s time to rethink the whole thing.”

“Wow, Bats must be hung,” GL teased.

“Hey, I didn’t say it was with Bruce. And how do you know I’m the one getting…”

“Clark, please.”

“It’s not that obvious!”

“Yes it is. Anyway, you were asking…?”

“Right. I was wondering if it’s ever been like that for you and how do I deal with it. I mean, I… this isn’t my first time, but I didn’t have that problem before.”

“Well, no, we didn’t have this problem, not with each other, anyway, but… Okay, so there are number of ways to ease it in. I won’t ask if you used lube, because you’re not fifteen, but just in case, apply liberally.”

“There’s lube with numbing agent, and creams too, if either can permeate you skin,” Hal added, getting serious for a moment. “And there’s this thing called poppers…”

“Those don’t work on me. Alien physiology and all.”

“Too bad. Other than that, I suggest you stretch. Not just as a foreplay, well before. I mean, buy a couple of toys and increase their size as you progress. Just don’t get overzealous.”

“Oh, that sounds like an overkill.”

“Trust me, it isn’t. Plus, you can keep them around to bring some spice into the play later.”

“I’ll send you a link to a good store.”

“Yeah, okay. Just in DM, not the group chat.”

“Who do you take me for?” Hal’s indignation may have been genuine, but it wouldn’t be the first time he made that mistake.

This has been embarrassing, but less than he feared it would be.

“Thanks, guys. I appreciate the advice. And…”

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone,” Flash winked at him. “And I’ll make sure Hal doesn’t accidentally mention it too.”

“Hey!”

“I’ll thank you to do that. See you around!”

***

The next date, almost two weeks after the first one, they ended up in Clark’s flat in Metropolis. He was hesitant about going there at first, after the spacious rooms of Wayne Manor, but if they were going to be together, he’d have to make peace with Bruce being in upper tax bracket.

This time they took a walk along the waterline, stopping at Clark’s few favorite spots for seafood and beer. When the sun started to set they were already far away from the crowded places and could dip their toes in the ocean and enjoy a bit of gentle affection.

Back at his place things quickly escalated, but, remembering their last attempt, Bruce went even slower. He let Clark take initiative and didn’t advance until told to. From before Superman figured Bruce for a rough, controlling lover – he did not expect he’d be this gentle. In fact, he didn’t think a man could be this gentle at all, but here they were.

Flash’s advice worked out well, and this time he was able to take it like he fantasized before. It hurt at the beginning still, but nowhere near like the last time. And this feeling quickly subsided to make room for sensation of fulfillment. As his lover delivered thrust after thrust, pleasant feeling of stretching started to build up into something more. He locked his legs around Bruce’s waist and tried to match his movements. Intense groan let Clark know he’s doing the right thing.

It took quite a few moments to collect their breath after finishing.

“That was even better than I thought,” Clark admitted. “And I thought a lot about it. But next time I want to top.”

“Sure,” Bruce embraced him, despite the fact that they were both hot and sweaty. “This will be fun. I especially like how you’ve decided there’s going to be the next time. Makes me think I know what I’m doing.”

“Don’t play coy,” Clark laughed, returning the embrace.

The next few minutes they spent in silence. Then Bruce let go of him a bit and propped himself on one elbow, so he could see Clark’s face.

“By the way, there’s something I need to clarify before we go on,” he started. “It’s not a surprise or anything, but I feel that it’s best said beforehand.”

Clark turned his head and opened his mouth, but then changed his mind. He nodded for Bruce to go on.

“It’s no secret that I’ve had the life before you. My years of being a vigilante are… storied. And I’m bringing all that past along with me.”

“You mean like Oliver?” Clark raised his brow. “B, I had exes too, I didn’t think it needed to be said…”

Bats raised his hand, stopping him. “Yes, well, I’m not talking about exes. But actually that reminds me, some people from my past are not as civil as Ollie. Or Diana. Or… well, let’s just say they’re not nice people and it will bite me, and consequently, you in the ass one day, but that’s not what I was talking about.”

“I’d rather you bite me in the ass.”

“I will if you let me finish,” a short chuckle fought its way through a serious face. “If we are to be together, you’ll have to understand that it’s not just me you’re bringing into your life. You haven’t met anyone in the Mansion before, but there’s quite a few people working with me. Each strengthens the team, the… family in their own way, but also brings along new enemies, new secrets, and new risks. And I won’t always be able to tell you everything. Mainly because those are not my secrets to tell, even the ones that come from my past…”

“I understand.”

“No, I don’t think you do. The one that I can tell you… did you know I had a son?”

Clark was getting more and more confused. He thought it was only natural that people don’t magically shed their past when coming into a relationship.

“Yes… we’ve met? Nightwing. I think his real name is Richard something…”

“Grayson. And I’m not talking about him. There’s also Tim, but I’m talking about a biological son. Before you ask, I know only that he exists, we’ve never met, but I expect we will, sooner or later.”

“Wait, really…?” Clark was getting more surprised by the minute, but his journalistic instincts kicked in. “How old is he? What’s his name? And who’s the mother?”

“These are all things I can’t tell you. Like I said, not my secret. See what I mean?”

“Yeah…” Clark paused. “I kind of thought all of that was a given. It’s okay, Bruce, I don’t mind you having a past. And we’re all kind of close in the League, especially we, who were there at the beginning. I was ready to treat you like family long before all of… this.”

Bruce sighed.

“I’m not worried that you’ll mind me having past. I’m worried you’ll have a problem with me keeping secrets from you.”

“I will not. I can’t promise you I’ll be happy about it all the time, but I understand and I accept.”

As Clark locked him in the tight embrace, all Bruce could think of is how lucky he was. Emotions have overflown him, forming a tight lump in the throat. If part of his training wasn’t about control, this could have been embarrassing. Bruce raised his eyes and looked at his lover with absolute adoration.

“You are wonderful,” he gave him a kiss. “You’re so sweet sometimes, I’m surprised how nothing’s tried to eat you today. Except for me, that is.”

“Oh, the day is young. And B… When we’re alone, you can call me Kal-El.”

***

Were times, Bruce lashed out easily against his teammates. A solitary vigilante wasn’t used to working together and it showed. A lot has changed since then: a few Robins have passed through the Wayne Manor, Batgirl, Batwoman, Oracle and a couple of others; Justice League was created with Batman among its leaders. All of that eventually smoothed out Gotham’s protector and turned him into an ardent advocate for team work.

“You charged off without thinking,” his voice was calm, but all who knew him could feel the metallic notes in it. “You played hero and endangered the hostages.”

“It worked out, didn’t it?” Bats had a point, and Clark might be more focused on it if his charge failed. Now that the worst was behind them, it was difficult to understand why Bruce was so angry. “No casualties and almost no injuries.”

“Oh yes, everyone lives. By sheer blind dumb luck, but everyone lives. This time.”

“Bat, come on,” Arthur’s low voice cut in. “A bit too late for all that.”

“No, I want to know why do I bother devising a plan of attack every time if he’s just going to do what he wants. We have it for a reason, Superman. If he decided to shoot the hostages, even you wouldn’t be able to react.”

You knew Batman was seriously pissed off when he didn’t call Clark by his name.

“I don’t know, Batman. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I mean, I knew he’d try and shoot me if I attacked, and I had to do it slow enough so Weapons Master could see me and react on instinct.”

“You didn’t know shit,” Batman’s voice got a notch lower. “You guessed. You gambled and it played out. This time. But make no mistake, it didn’t play out because you’re so good, or because you had the right idea. You were simply lucky. Want to know why? Because here’s what he shot with.”

With these words Batman produced a couple of bullets from his belt and threw them on the table. Even without looking closely, everyone could see a speck of green on their tips. Diana whistled. A bead of sweat formed on Clark’s temple: sometimes he got too used to his invincibility.

“Fuck…”

“Yeah, fuck. Weapons Master came prepared, as I thought he might. And that’s why the plan was for you to keep his attention while Diana or I could disarm him and then for you to secure hostages. Why, that wasn’t glorious enough for the great Superman, I guess!”

“That not fair!” Kryptonian started to get angry. “That’s not why I… I thought he was looking for a way to shoot you or Arthur…”

“Both Aquaman’s and mine armors can take a few Kryptonite rounds,” Batman was a bit touched, but did not relent. “They were designed with that in mind. You might have died. And if not you, the hostages sure would have.”

“I didn’t know that!”

“You didn’t have to know that, we had a plan of attack!”

Superman looked around desperately for support.

“I said what I think,” Arthur raised his hands.

“Yeah, I’m with Batman on this one,” Cyborg has just finished examining the bullets and raised his cybernetic eye. “My simulations confirm Bruce’s plan, it would’ve succeeded. Your attack only did so by chance, not method.”

“Okay, that’s enough. We all heard you, Bruce,” Wonder Woman’s voice was peaceful, but firm. “Let’s stop arguing before someone says something they regret.”

Clark looked at Diana with gratitude. He didn’t believe he was in the wrong until Bruce pulled out the bullets. And he wasn’t sure he appreciated that his lover kept them to himself for so long for dramatic effect alone, but something told him not to mention it right now.

“Next time try putting a little more faith in your team and a little less in your own omnipotence,” Batman finished, looking him in the eye.

“So what, I’m grounded to the Watchtower now?” words just escaped his mouth. He didn’t really want to say it.

“I’m not your parent, we’re all pulling equal weight here. And that means we all bear responsibility for our own actions. If that’s too much for you to handle, maybe we should try taking someone less arrogant.”

“If arrogance’s the issue, you’ll be out the door right after me!”

This was too much. Clark stood up, turned on his heels and walked out.

“Okay, I’m out too. Nice working with ya,” Arthur didn’t wait long. “You coming, Scrap Yard?”

“I told you not to call me that!” Cyborg answered amiably and stood up to leave. “Till next time.”

Diana on the other hand was in no hurry. She kicked back in her chair – Bruce noticed it was a habit of hers – and gave him a long puzzled look.

“You know you’re gonna have to apologize for that, right?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to maybe start now?” sometimes when she was annoyed she spoke to him as if to a kid. It mostly happened when Bruce didn’t know a healthy way to deal with his emotions and Diana had to explain how normal people should interact.

“I need to cool off first,” he sighed. “And so does he.”

“Oh, look, a first sound thought of the day!”

“Diana, don’t make me argue with you too. I’m right about this!”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong about the plan. Tell me, Bruce, why did you react like you did? This isn’t the first time thing don’t go according to plan. No one can predict absolutely everything, circumstances change and so must it. You know that. I’m quoting your speech about adaptability at you, if you haven’t noticed.”

“I know.”

“You also know, that in field errors in judgment are common and unavoidable. As long as everyone got out safely, there’s really little point in dwelling on it.”

“I know that too.”

“And might I add that never before you needed more than a few logical arguments to get the point across. So let me ask you again, why the full-blown scandal?”

“Because I worry for him, okay? I didn’t want to bring that up until I saw the bullets, but Diana, he would have died. One shot is all it takes. And I meant what I said, Clark is too sure of himself. Every time he goes against anyone with Kryptonite, he knows beforehand. Be it Metallo or Lex, he expects it and learned to deal with it, or ask for help. But ever since Lena figured out how to synthesize it, Kryptonite isn’t as rare anymore. He needs to understand he’s not as invincible. And the hostages he foolishly endangered even less so.”

“How touching,” Diana didn’t seem impressed. “Has it occurred to you that he knows that? That he know what he signed up for with Justice League and all this hero business? That he accepts and understands the risks?”

“Yes, but…”

“Don’t interrupt. Despite what you might think, Superman knows what he’s doing. He’s been doing this for quite some time. As have we all. What?”

“I’m not questioning his competence, Diana!” Bruce challenged her doubtful expression. “I’m not! Not anymore, anyway… I just don’t like it how he dives head first into danger when I do my best to give him a better way. What we do is dangerous enough as it is. Every night that he doesn’t check in lay in bed hoping that he’s cheating and not dead!”

Wonder Woman sat next to him on the table and put her hand on his armored shoulder.

“This right here are the words you should be saying to him, Bruce. All that you’ve described is you projecting your fear and worry. And that’s normal. What isn’t normal is that you’re taking it out on Clark and in a nasty patronizing manner to boot. Doesn’t matter how right you are.”

Bruce took few breaths in and out trying to process all of it.

“You… have a point.”

“Of course I do. Clark is a good man. A kind man. And one of the greatest heroes alive today. And he’s in love with you. He deserves better.”

“He deserves the best,” Bruce muttered, fondness filling his voice. “I’ll try to give it.”

“He should too, because as much as it pains me to admit it, we do make plans for a reason, and you’re good at making them. I’ll need to remember that for the next time I argue with Clark. Anyway, now that we’ve dealt with than, I need your advice on something…”

***

Normally, whoever woke up first, cooked the breakfast. Or ordered it in case of Bruce, who despised cooking like any other chore. But Bruce was a night owl through and through, so when they stayed at his place, it was usually Clark who started the day standing over the stove.

He was just finishing with eggs when Bruce woke up. If he wasn’t half-asleep and distracted, he might have noticed him sneaking up.

“Good morning,” Bruce came up from behind and put his hands on Clark’s hips. “You’ve got to stop walking around in your boxers, Clark. My self-restraint only goes so far.”

“You’re impossible,” Clark fell back into Batman’s embrace and breathed heavily when he nuzzled the neck. “Last night wasn’t enough for you?”

“Oh, it’ll leave me walking funny for the next week,” he smiled. “But I’ll never have enough of you. By the way, you’re burning the eggs.”

“Damn it!” Kal moved the pan from the burner. “That’s your fault! You keep distracting me.”

Bruce laughed. “And I’ll keep doing that.”

“Ugh, fine!” he turned around, picked Bruce up with ease and sat him on the counter. “Happy?”

“That’s a start,” Bruce whispered into his ear. “To be honest, I came here for a breakfast, but then decided against the eggs in favor of a cake…”

Two heavy palms landed on Clark’s behind. You’d think he’d have learned not to blush every time by now, but no.

“And now the cake is being difficult.”

“The cake has to get to work soon, and as much as he likes his icing licked, now is not the time.”

“Spoilsport,” Bruce laid back a bit, but didn’t open his arms. “Wait, is that a grey hair?”

Clark tried to comb his hair with his hand. “Might be. Why so surprised?”

“I didn’t think you aged,” Bruce looked a little perplexed. “Aren’t you supposed to be regenerating fast enough to counter it?”

Kryptonian chuckled.

“And how’s that supposed to work? You think I just aged normally into my thirties and then suddenly stopped forever?” Batman didn’t answer, and Clark felt he owed more of an explanation. “You know how most of my power comes from the Sun, right?”

Batman nodded. “Except super strength.”

“Even that, actually, at least in part. Kryptonians are strong, very strong, but not that strong. Anyway, the truth is, I do age, just not like you. As I get older, I slowly lose the ability to metabolize sunlight efficiently. It chips away at all my powers: I fly slower, my vision doesn’t burn as hot, that sort of thing.”

“And I never noticed…”

“Why would you? I almost never use my abilities with full force. True, I can’t carry a city block any more, but nor do I need to.”

“Hm…”

“It’s not like I’m dying, B,” he rushed to reassure. “It’s not cancer, it’s age.”

“Yes, I realize that. It’s just strange. I always knew you weren’t immortal, but I hoped you were a lot less mortal than the rest of us.”

“I still am. Not that my boss wouldn’t kill me anyway if I’m late, so I’ll thank you to let me go shower.”

“Wait, I actually wanted to ask you a favor. What would you say about doing a little article on the side?”

“Em... okay, what about?”

“Remember Doctor Vercelli? I introduced you on our first date. Well, we’ve been working together to create a sort of special fund for... well, for trauma patients. Particularly, trauma related to criminal activity.”

Clark frowned. “That’s long overdue, a lot of innocents get hurt in Gotham.”

“It’s not just the innocents. Criminals too.”

Clark sighed and looked at the time, but curiosity was stronger than punctuality. “Start at the beginning.”

“I’ve discussed Batman with Valentina once, particularly his... my violence. I always say that Batman doesn’t kill, but turns out it is only partly true. Doc says, people still die. Head traumas provoke brain vessel ruptures, punctured and contused lungs often result in infections... Most of the thugs don’t turn to that life just for fun. Therefore, they aren’t insured. They don’t die very often, but they still die. And those who survive often have lasting consequences, like losing strength in limbs, which in turn make them less employable and more prone to return to the streets. All because they can’t afford to be treated.”

“I actually never thought about it like that,” Clark said with a bit of worry in his voice. “But B, you can’t start pitying criminals...”

“I do not pity them,” Bruce cut him off. “The blame for deciding to hurt the innocents is still theirs, and I realize they have to be stopped. I also realize that if I don’t punch them in the head, some cop will probably shoot them in it, and this isn’t some kind of a twisted guilt trip. I just don’t want their blood on my hands.”

“Okay, okay. But why do you want me to write it? There’s enough journalists in Gotham.”

“Yes, but not one I’d trust to do it,” he replied. “See, people are more willing to be angry than compassionate. The story that Bruce Wayne uses his money to help his criminal underlings under the guise of charity will sell better, it’s profitable to spin it that way. Plus, imagine the outlash if the main takeaway is “Wayne is spending on money on charity for criminals when there are thousands of good people in need.” PR will eat me alive.”

“That’s not... But don’t you own press over there?”

“I do. And it renders its credibility on the subject to nothing. But if the story comes from an independent outside reporter... I can make sure it gets printed.”

“I don’t know,” Clark mused, looking at the window. “It’d be an interesting story, but now that you’ve asked me, I’m already biased. You know how I hate that.”

Bruce leaned on the counter. “I’m not asking you because we’re dating. I’m asking because I think you’ll see my reasoning and will not chase a rumor. And because I know you’ll do your homework and get the nuances right. There’s a lot of them.”

“Now you’re just flattering me. But I’ll bite: nuances such as?” Kal was running so late he’d probably have to fly to the office if he hasn’t left in ten minutes, but he wanted to hear it all.

“In short, you can’t just throw money at the hospital and hope and hope it will be used effectively. Remember the piece you’ve done on overinflated healthcare rates? We’ve negotiated a series of contracts to bring them down for this fund only. The resulting money will go to pay for additional security and staff, and into raises to medics who’ll have to deal with dangerous people. WayneTech will also provide Gotham General with medical equipment we produce, and there’s whole system in place to make sure all that money is spent how it’s meant to...”

“Okay, I got it. A complicated charity. I’ll look into it, but I will need an interview with Dr. Vercelli and a special with you.”

Bruce chuckled, obviously relieved. “You’ll always have a chance for a special with me.”

“How can you make even that sound dirty? No, don’t answer, I’ll be late as it is. Perry will kill me!”

***

Every bar needed to make “a local bully” an official position. It would seriously improve employment stats nationwide, although effectively depriving every village of its idiot.

The two of them went out for a beer. When he got a work trip to Gotham, Bruce suggested he’s stay at the Manor, but he’s done that before. Since Daily Planet was renting him an apartment, they’ve opted for a change of scenery. And since that apartment wasn’t especially fun to hang around, the nearest bar sounded like an okay plan.

It was sleazier than he imagined, but this was Gotham. What else could he expect? The date was going great: no mentions of the League so far. Clark was in the middle of an interview retelling, when four apparent regulars decided to interfere. Two men openly acting like more than just friends were bound to catch some attention, especially in a place like this.

“I’ll be the heavy hitter, you’re on the defensive,” Bruce realized where this was going even before they started talking. “I don’t want you to accidentally break the wall and risk exposure. My face is too recognizable as it is.”

Kal agreed, even though he believed Bruce just wanted to show off. As if he needed to. Bats honestly tried to reason with the attackers, but to no avail. Too well dressed for this joint, apparently.

Clark did step back the moment first of the bullies, bold one with an earring, rushed forward. What happened next could hardly be called a fight. Bruce danced around them with a grace you wouldn’t normally expect from a man his size. Not one punch has landed on him; his, however, rained down like a hail.

Clark was so enchanted by his boyfriend’s nimble moves he didn’t realize someone broke a bottle on his head.

“Ow!” he exclaimed with a three second delay and pulled a face like it genuinely hurt. Then turned around and carefully threw his opponent over the bar. The throw was stronger than he intended, but still not unreasonably so.

When Clark turned around, it was already over. Bruce just bashed the last face against the table and picked up a bottle that miraculously wasn’t toppled in a brawl.

“Let’s go,” Bruce threw a couple of bills on the table. “We’re drawing attention.”

There was still daylight left when they went in, but now all the streetlights were on. This wasn’t the worst hood, at least lamps were all working.

“I must say, being defended has made me unseasonably warm.”

“You didn’t need defending. If anything, I was defending them from you.”

“Don’t ruin it,” Clark put his hand around Bruce’s shoulder. “No one’s ever done that for me before. So what’s the plan? Do we go back to my place or try to save the evening?”

“You kidding, I’m not even tipsy. Let’s go find somewhere else. Maybe gay bar, I don’t think we’ll run into many assholes there.”

“For the sake of accuracy, you should rephrase that,” Clark chuckled.

Bruce never drank so much as to lose control. It was easier to pretend to be completely plastered than deal with the consequences of actually being that. But alcohol still loosed tongue and helped let go of some tension in the shoulders. When they emerged from the doors of another bar a few hours later, both were sufficiently relaxed.

“You know, I’ve been thinking… We’ve been dating for a few months now,” Kal-El didn’t get drunk easily, but was in elated moon nonetheless.

“Three months and twelve days.”

“Yes, that. I think it’s time you met my parents.”

“I met your who now?” Batman started a fit of cough.

“My parents. I mean Kents,” he clarified.

“I know you weren’t talking about the house of El, Kal. I’ve just… never done that before.”

“Come on, seriously? Weren’t you, like, the most desirable bachelor in Gotham?”

“Most of that wasn’t serious enough for a second date, let alone a family dinner!”

“No one serious?”

“Clark, you know there were. But none of those people had parents. Selina, Oliver…”

“You’ve met Diana’s mother.”

“As her friend, not lover. And we were defending Themyscira then.”

“So you’re telling me, you’ve never been introduced to the parents as someone’s boyfriend?”

“Err… There’s Talia al Ghul…”

“Wait, Ra's al Ghul’s daughter? You and her…?”

“It wasn’t anything,” Bruce suddenly realized he said too much. “Not anything you need to worry about, anyway.”

“You have the strangest life.”

“Says a superpowered alien.”

“Touché. Anyway, don’t plan anything for the next weekend. It’s dinner at Kent’s.”

“Are you sure? That is… a lot, and what do I do, what do I wear?”

“Oh, just be your usual charming self. Eh, Bruce Wayne self, I mean. You’ll win them over. Worked with me.”

Bruce sighed.


	3. So many plans for the future

The morning he had to go meet the parents was completely normal. Smallville was a 6-hour ride from Metropolis, where the Watchtower teleporter beamed them, but it’ll be a lot faster in Bruce’s Maserati. It would be faster still if it was Batmobile, or they used Watchtower to get straight there, but Clark insisted that a dinner at his folk’s should be as normal as they could make it.

“Are you sure this’ll be enough? I don’t want to show up empty-handed,” Bruce nervously tapped the wheel.

Clark turned around to the backseat, to a bouquet and an expensive whiskey with cigars. “We’re not empty-handed, love.”

“There’s still time to buy something more… substantial.”

“Bruce, if you show up with something obscenely pricey, you’ll just make them embarrassed. They’re farmers. Don’t be so nervous.”

“I just want them to like me. And I know it’s important to you that we get along…”

“You will get along just fine,” Clark put his hand on his knee and squeezed. “Don’t worry, Bruce, it’ll be fine. Now, do you mind if get some coffee?”

“Yes, but outside the car. This is leather.”

Bruce loves road trips, always have. He even slowed down a bit to enjoy the view.

“Hey, Kal, do your parents know…?” he stumbled, trying to find the fitting words

“What? That you’re Batman? No, I’ve never told them. They know that you know who I really am, so there’s that.”

“Good, I was planning for that to remain that way.”

“We should agree on a story then. How we met and how you’ve discovered that I’m Superman… I mean it took me years to tell Lois, they’ll never believe I told you so soon.”

The next hour they spent preparing a rehearsing the story. For someone who hid himself for so long, Clark was a terrible liar: Bruce had to patch up plot holes. As all good journalists, Superman wanted to give the story credibility by adding names his parents knew. That would’ve worked for a paper, but not up close and personal, where too many characters would just make the story verifiable.

“Good that we had it sorted out, but I actually meant to ask if your parents know the nature of our relationship. We don’t have to pretend we’re just friends, do we?”

“Oh, no. I mean they do know, I’ve told them. And Ma’ knew I had this gigantic crush on you.”

“So they’re okay with it?”

“Yes. I’ve told them I’m interested in men before, they took it well. You’ll see, they’re very kind people. I think they just want me happy.”

“Here’s hoping.”

“Don’t worry,” Clark repeated for a hundredth time. “They’ll love you. Did you ever have a problem being out? I know socialites can be like sharks.”

“Not really. In my social circle it’s… tolerable. Not that they’re any lesser bigots, mind you,” he accentuated. “It’s just out of fashion to be homophobic. And those people would rather die than face a Twitter backlash. Plus, the first man I’ve been publically out with was Oliver Queen, who’s also a billionaire playboy. The reputation played its part, I think they imagine it’s an eccentricity of mine, dating men.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?”

“No. Why should it? They don’t know me. I know me.”

Clark gave him a puzzled look for a second.

“Hm. How can you be so troubled and so wholesome at the same time?”

“The thread breaks where it is weakest.”

Bantering like that, another few hours passed. They started to get hungry, but decided not to eat before dinner. Luckily, as endless cornfields passed by them, Clark got some shut-eye. He only woke up when they were passing the huge “Welcome to Smallville” billboard. He remained asleep even for a few stops Bruce made along the way.

“Hey, I think Pa’s waiting for us,” he said, as they were pulling up to the house. “Okay, let’s grab the presents. You take the bottle, I’ll take flowers.”

A grey-haired man stood up from his chair as they approached. As they came onto the porch, he looked at Bruce appraisingly. A small, lively woman stepped out of the house. Bruce stood a little aside, while Clark gave each of them a hug. Compared to him, both looked tiny.

“That’s a nice car you got there, Mister,” senior Kent gave a whistle.

“Eh… yeah. Sure. Want to take a ride?” Bruce instinctively reached for keys. The man’s face literally lit up.

The woman insistently coughed.

“Maybe some other time,” he declined, obviously disappointed.

“Right. Em, Bruce. Bruce Wayne,” he finally fell out of stupor and reached out his hand.

“Martha Kent. This is my husband Johnathan.” the woman stepped closer to shake it. The turned to her family: “See? These are manners, as you need a demonstration.”

“A pleasure to meet you. We come with gifts,” he now wished he took the bouquet, as most of the dialogue was with Martha. Thankfully, Clark presented orchids just in time, and he just gave the bottle and cigars to John.

“Thanks. These look e… nice. Thanks.”

Martha buried her face in the flowers. “They are wonderful dear. Well, don’t just stand there, come on in. The dinner isn’t quite ready, but we can start with some tea and cookies. Or wine, if you prefer. John, put the bottle down and help me with the tray.”

“Tea’s fine, thanks.”

The first couple of ice-breakers fell through, but after half an hour of worrying, Bruce’s legendary charm finally kicked in. Thanks in no small part to Martha, who’s made every attempt to be welcoming. Her husband did try to follow suit, but he was just as socially awkward as Clark. Dinner and a couple glasses of whiskey helped too.

“So Mister Wayne…”

“Please, call me Bruce. I get enough of “Mister Wayne” at work.”

“Of course. I’ve been wondering, how do you and Clark manage your time together? I know he can be quite busy with both jobs.”

“So can I. But we don’t need to be around one another constantly. We keep just enough apart so that every meeting is interesting.”

“Smart,” Pa’ Kent saluted with his glass. “Most people spend so much time together, they get bored after a month.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Martha waved dismissively. “He and I were inseparable since high school. People don’t get bored, some are just boring to begin with. I’m sure Mist… Bruce isn’t the case.”

“I said most people,” muttered John. “Some are just meant for each other. By the way, Clark, you remember Millers?”

“Vaguely. They’re neighbors,” he explained to Bruce. “We almost never talked.”

“Yes, well, you know they have a son, Tyler? Their boy came out to them last week.”

“Good for him,” Bruce somehow felt he wasn’t going to like it.

“No, I’m afraid. Millers were always conservative, I just didn’t realize how much. I offered the boy to stay with us for a time being, but you know how teenagers are. Last I saw him, he was on a bus for Metropolis.”

“They kicked him out?” Clark’s tone was much angrier than he intended.

“Um… yes. Violently, I’m afraid. I dragged the Joe from Tyler myself…”

A loud crack interrupted him. Everyone turned around to see Bruce’s glass cracked. Vigilante’s face went white and blank.

He quickly put it over an empty plate. “I’m so sorry. I’ll clean it up.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, it’s just a glass. Let me just get the puddle on the floor and we’re all set.”

“I’ll grab a new one,” Clark jumped up.

“Sorry,” John shrugged apologetically. “I didn’t think it’d get to you.”

“No, it’s good that you brought it up,” Bruce started to calm himself. “I’ll track the boy down, see if I can do something for him. Clark, I’ll need your help. It’s best if he’s approached by a familiar face.”

“Of course, love. Sorry, Ma’, Bruce has got sort of a soft spot for kids.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for. I’ve half a mind to set their house on fire myself. But how will you find him?”

“I own a communication company. If he has a name and a phone, I can find him. And I don’t have a soft spot!”

“Oh really?”

“Do you have kids, Bruce?” Martha asked carefully.

“Yes. Three of them.” Well, four, technically, but even he has never met Talia’s child. It wouldn’t be fair to count him as his own.

John swallowed whiskey the wrong way. “Three?!”

Clark looked at him reproachfully, knowing well that this was the reaction Bruce expected.

“Yes, they’re wards, actually. And they ended up with me as teens or almost teens, so it’s not like I raised any of them, but I’ve come to think of them as mine.”

“As it should be,” Ma’ Kent concluded. “And how is raising teenagers going for you?”

“It gets easier,” Bruce answered. “Oh, who am I kidding, it never gets easier. But you kind of get used to them.”

“Well put,” senior Kents laughed.

“And it sounds like a soft spot to me,” teased John.

“Just don’t tell anyone,” Bruce smiled. “Thanks for the dinner. Everything was great.”

“I was going for a smoke. You coming?”

“I don’t smoke, but I’ll keep you company.”

“And I’ll help Ma’ with the dishes,” Clark offered, definitely pleased they all were getting along.

“I’ll come join you in a few minutes.”

“Bruce, you’re a guest, I’m not letting you do the dishes,” Martha said sternly.

“I was going to stay up late anyway, Mrs. Kent. It’s quite alright.”

“Okay then. But if anyone asks, I disapproved.”

A few minutes later Bruce was talking to Pa’ Kent on the porch and Clark with his mother finished cleaning the table and sat down in the kitchen.

“I swear, that man can charm the bird out of its feathers!” exclaimed Marta looking out the window. “I’ve never seen John so talkative with a stranger before. I see why you like him.”

“Bruce was much more brooding and much less charming when I liked him. You know that saying, “an iron fist in a velvet glove”? He’s kind of the opposite. I like it. What do you think?”

“He seems nice. I usually don’t trust the rich types. Did he really adopt those teens?”

“Yes, I’ve met them, actually. They’re… something.”

“Well, anyway, I’m happy if you’re happy, darling. Just… just make sure you’re on the same page.”

Clark frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Look, I’m not saying anything about Bruce, I don’t know him that well. And he seems alright, but with the rich it’s so often about legacy and keeping face and being proper… I don’t want you to one day discover that for him it isn’t what it is for you. Do you see what I mean?”

“Yes, Ma’, but you needn’t worry. We’ve had that conversation before.”

“Okay then. I’m glad for you.”

Meanwhile, Bruce returned to the kitchen with an unfinished glass in his hand. He put it down on the counter.

“Okay, Ma’”

“Thank you both. And you for the wonderful evening. I’ll see you in the morning. Come on, John.”

With these words, elderly pair went upstairs.

“See?” Kal looked at Bruce victoriously. “They liked you, just like I said they would.”

“They’re nice. I expected this to be much more awkward, especially with your dad.”

“He doesn’t usually say much around my friends. He’s afraid he’ll sound like an old geezer. But he eased up around you.”

“I’ve spent most of my life around old geezers. Picked up a trick or two,” Bruce chuckled and dodged the towel Clark playfully tried to hit him with.

When Bruce finished with the dishes, he put the towel down and came behind Clark, hugging him. Clark felt his erection and rubbed his ass against it.

“So what now?” he asked, agog for continuation.

“What’s gonna happen now, boy,” he put a lot of emphasis on the last word. “Is that I’m going to finish this glass, then take a long stroll under stars, which is going to end in that huge barn I saw outside. And when it does, you’ll be waiting for me there, naked and on your knees. And you’re going to do everything I tell and then some. We clear?”

“This isn’t the city. Somebody might hear us…”

Bruce leaned forward bit his ear and whispered into it: “Well then, you’d better keep your mouth firmly shut, or I’ll find a way to do it for you. Are. We. Clear?

“Yes sir,” his own erection didn’t let Clark fully lay on it. Bruce slapped his butt and walked out.

Bruce wanted to give Clark some time: the man was getting increasingly comfortable with new kinks Bruce threw his way, he shared most of them, and haste never helped anyone in these matters. He took a long way around, strolling along endless fields of corn dotted with dark silhouettes of tractors and trucks. He always thought the colossal monocultures looked creepy, as if something was watching you from behind drying stems. He remembered reading about noonwraiths – Slavic spirits who lived in the wheat fields people used to explain the sunstrokes, and wondered if something similar was tied to maize.

The barn was almost completely dark. Sure enough, Clark waited for him, as instructed, his muscular body illuminated only by wireless nightlight he considerately brought along. The LED bulbs were too weak and too few to be seen from outside, but for what they wanted a few yards of dim light were enough.

Bruce circled naked Kal-El around a few times, like a buyer on the market. He gave his lover a few inappropriate touches. Clark caught on to the game momentarily, and from what could be seen, he liked it.

Bruce squatted down in front of him. “Well, well, what have we here?”

Superman didn’t answer, just bit his lip. It didn’t escape his attention that Bruce didn’t undress. It was somehow even more humiliating to be fully naked now. And more exciting.

“Face down,” he heard commanding voice. It wasn’t their first time fooling around with domination and humiliation, and usually Bruce preferred to manhandle him. This time was different: he expected Kryptonian to follow commands on his own. “Lower.”

He put his sneaker closer to Clark’s face. That’s new.

“You want me to… kiss it?” Clark asked. Then, after a pause added “Sir.”

“If you’re ready to get a kick in the face,” Bruce chuckled, “that’s how I know you want it. Go ahead.”

Kal-El doubted for a second and then gave in. After all, B never let him down, especially not in sex. With his face to the ground, he could hear Bruce begin undressing. He heard the rustling of the belt being pulled out of denim shorts and relaxed his ass, knowing any muscle tension will make it hurt more.

“Straighten up,” he heard instead. His lover put the belt around his neck a few times and fastened it, making a collar. “I had a few extra holes punched in this one just for that. You like it?”

Obedient to the pull, Clark raised his head. Bruce stood above him only in his smallclothes, and Clark couldn’t help but fall in love with him all over. It wasn’t just his looks thought, most men in the League cut quite a figure. Bruce was also smart and relentless. He didn’t seem the friendliest type, but he did care. And most of all, he possessed an incredible indomitable will, the one that made the strongest man on earth kneel and grovel.

“Yes, sir.”

“Is that it?”

“I love it, sir. I love everything you do with me.”

“Do you, now? And what is it that I do that you love so much?”

“I… everything, sir.”

He jerked the collar. “I want to hear it. Do not test my patience again.”

“I like it when you fuck me, sir. I relish in the feeling of you inside me. I enjoy your hands on my hips, I…”

“Anyone could like that,” Bruce seemed flattered, but still not pleased. “I do for you what I do for nobody else. Now, again, what do you like?”

When talked to like that, Clark only felt shy for so long. Eventually the arousal defeated shame, and with a warm wave coming to his face, words poured.

“I like when you manhandle me. I like my body in your arms. I like being pushed around, I love it when the mood strikes you to tie me down. I love it when you have fun exploring my body, your hands so curious and so skilled. I beam with excitement every time I get your text telling me to get ready, to meet you bending over the desk or to put on your favorite boxer briefs. With you, every spanking, every chocking feels like an orgasm of its own, and yes, I love it when you fuck me. I love that little smile on your face every time I swallow. And I love every game we’ve ever played. Sir.”

With those words, Clark tried to lean forward to bury his face in Bruce’s crotch, but was caught by the collar.

“How eloquent you are when you want it,” Be grinned. “I’m almost convinced to let you have it. Almost. If you beg for it, like a good boy. What do you say? Do you want it?”

“Yes, sir, please, sir.” His whole body was tense with desire. Clark started speaking breathily. “Take me. Take me however you want, sir. I’ll do anything, I promise, anything. I will take it the way you like it. Face or ass, I don’t care, if you’d just fuck me, sir. Please. I want to be yours.”

“You already are. Okay, have at it. But if you get sloppy, I’m fucking your throat and I will not be gentle.”

Clark pulled the underpants down and got to work. He got very good at it in the short few months they were together. As he stood there, trying to concentrate on the sensation, one thought was hounding him. How fucking lucky he was. Clark was a treasure, and not just in bed. Most of their sex was pretty vanilla, only occasionally mood struck to spice things up, and every time Kryptonian was ready and willing. Given Bruce’s very particular tastes in spicing things up, finding someone so compatible was like winning a lottery. But sex was just part of it. Clark was kind. Clark was pure. He had these immovable morals which Bruce found himself turning to more often than he’d care to admit. Since they got together, he didn’t fear to falter, not as much, because he knew there’s always a beacon to lead him back into the light.

He caught Kal’s hair and pulled him back.

“That’s enough for now. Tongue out. Good job.”

Bruce slapped his cock on the tongue, then traced the tip around Clark’s face, leaving a thin liquid line. He initially planned to drag the game out some more, but feared it would feel like an overstretch. In kink it’s much better to leave wanting more than overdo it.

He laid Superman on his back and rested his legs on the shoulders. Clark always enjoyed seeing his face in the process. Kal-El was never a silent lover but here he could not moan. He bit his lips, panted and only let quite whines escape when he neared completion.

“Where do you want it?” He heard Bruce’s quite voice by the ear.

“On my face.”

He actually waited for Clark to come first. When the tense, trained body beneath him went limp and relaxed, he moved himself to sit on his chest and finished in a few quick strokes.

“You’ve never looked prettier than you do now,” Batman let himself relax into an orgasm and leaned against his lover’s bent knees, watching heavy drops trickle down strong chin.

Alien caressed his thigh. “Neither did you. You up for cuddles?”

“I’m always up for cuddles.”

Lovers ended up lying on the bed of straw, all messy, breathing heavily looking at each other with absolutely enchanted eyes.

“So that crosses Kansas of the list,” Bruce smiled, relaxed and happy.

“You’ve never had sex in Kansas before?”

“Not with you.”

Clark inhaled sharply, pretending to be insulted. Then narrowed his eyes: “That’s just one barn. You’re ready to cross the entire state after it?”

“Well, it’s one incredible barn… or was the fucking absolutely mind-blowing? I can never decide… Anyway, you’re welcome to give to a tour through the rest of them. We should be done in thirty years or so.”

“Smartass. Let’s get to bed.”

He got up and started sorting through the clothes that got mixed up. It was trickier than it seemed.

“You know, I had half a mind to make you walk to the bedroom naked with face covered in sperm,” he commented as Clark wiped his face. “You know, risk of being caught and all that.”

“I don’t know,” Clark commented, a bit confused. “Sounds hot, but feels a touch over the line.”

“I thought as much,” Bats agreed. “Kal, just put on any clothes, we’re getting out of them in two minutes anyway. I, for one, am planning to shower. All done? Let’s go.”

As they were driving away the next day, Clark’s superhearing caught Pa’ complaining to Martha about somebody sneaking into the barn and messing up the straw. He bit his lip and turned as red as his cape.

***

“So how’d your mission with Titans go?” Nightwing asked, trying to sound casual. It’s been some time since he left to play in higher league, but he obviously still cared. “How is their training?”

“Adequate.”

“B…”

“First of all, don’t call me that, bees are the buzzing insects that make honey.”

Time between missions, when he got to slow down, quietly analyze his findings and plot the course, was Bruce’s favorite part of a job. Sadly, at Watchtower it rarely went smoothly: people were coming and going all the time, most stopped for a small talk or an update. Solitude on a giant space station was harder to find then it seemed. Now he, Clark, Kara, Dick and Arthur were all sitting in the briefing room, some of them minding their business less than others.

“I’d say you were my honey, but you’re too sour most of the time.”

“Sometimes I think you’re sweet enough for the both of us.”

Kara rolled her eyes. “Ugh, even I can’t handle that.”

“Get a room,” Arthur didn’t even raise his eyes from his phone.

“And secondly,” Bruce ignored her, staring on the screen. “Their training was adequate. They didn’t need my help with fighting, only investigating. And they certainly didn’t need Clark’s.”

“Hey, I only asked you for help, Clark tagged along on his own. You don’t like it, that’s between the two of you. Can you elaborate on “adequate”, please?”

Batman sighed. He didn’t mind Superman coming along, actually, but couldn’t think of a way to tease him about it right now.

“Starfire fights predictably, but has an edge with flight and alien strength. And… well, star fire. Jason is his usual arrogant self, he’s keeping in shape, but I don’t think he’s learning, make sure Kory intensifies the training. He did well today, though. I don’t understand Raven’s power and its limits, and I don’t think she does either. That’s bad. Beast Boy doesn’t utilize his own body enough, instead relying on his transformation. Plus, he focuses too much on big animals, when it’s often better to turn into something small, but venomous. Is that enough?”

“Yes, thank you.” Nightwing pulled out his phone and started typing something. Batman wasn’t big on compliments, and that was actually a high praise coming from him.

“Just ignore him, he’s grumpy because Raven realized what Fearsome Five was after before he did. Batman doesn’t like to be slow.”

“No she didn’t,” Bruce almost jumped in his chair. “I mean, no I’m not.”

Loud laughter filled the room.

“Aw, did someone’s wittel pwide got huwt?” With Aquaman’s usual bass, this sounded particularly nasty.

“Keep talking, Little Mermaid, I’ll give you a hurt pride.”

Clark came behind him and clasped Batman in bearish embrace. With super strength there was no way to free himself, or even his arms, but Bruce still gave it a try.

“Be nice.”

“Fine. But only because you used your sad puppy eyes.”

He threw a bone and expected a conversation to focus on that, but no such luck.

“Speaking of puppy eyes… Guys, guess who has a crush on Bruce?”

“You,” Nightwing answered.

“Yes, of course, but guess who else? Raven!”

“What? You’re daft,” Dick smiled, but then decided to play along. “No way, it’s Raven, she’s the epitome of emotional control.”

“You should’ve seen the fight. That weird Five girl…”

“Jinx.”

“Yes, her. She tried to throw something at B and Raven… first she flew right across to the hex and deflected it, and then she just threw what looked like a torrent of absolute darkness. I’ve never seen her do that before. It was terrifying, but also kind of heroic.”

“The deflected hex must’ve hit you on the head,” Bruce felt strangely embarrassed. “It wasn’t as dramatic as he says. I told them that we’re here to help, not take over, so we’ll mostly be staying out of the fight. She did what everyone would have.”

“Oh, come on. It wasn’t just the fight, she always offered to guide you every time you need to get anywhere in the tower…”

Arthur’s brows shot up. “An unsociable demon girl offered to show him around? Bat, what pheromones are you using?”

“Don’t call her that,” Kara cut him off. Then turned to Batman: “But seriously, which ones? I’m expecting them for Christmas, just so you know.”

“And she sat by you at breakfast,” Clark was apparently having a field day.

“There were no free seats!”

“There were four free seats, but only one near you.”

Apparently the Justice League game “Piss off the Batman” just started.

“You’re just jealous, because the only one you impressed was Beast Boy,” Batman retorted, sending the room into another round of laughter.

“Come on, Clark,” Nightwing joined the conversation again. “You understand her, right?”

“I mean, what’s not to like? Tall, handsome…” Kara picked up.

“Mysterious and brooding. That’s like teen girl special.”

“Smart and witty…”

“Protective too. Besides, she’s an empath. Teenage goth girls always go for the traumatized and the tortured.”

“I am not tortured!”

“Plus, Bats is older and authoritative… And with a father like hers the girl’s bound to have daddy issues.”

“Arthur!” everyone yelled in unison.

“What? It’s true!” He clapped Superman on the shoulder. “If I were you, I’d ask Zatana for an amulet or something. With Kryptonian vulnerability to magic…”

“Jokes aside, do you really think she’s that powerful?” That’s right, Kara wasn’t in the League the last time Trigon came to visit.

“Probably more,” Nightwing shrugged. “Now how about we go back to the jokes?”

“How about no?” Bruce raised his head again. “You’re laughing at a teenager’s expense. Have some shame, you scoundrels.”

“No, we’re laughing at your expense, playboy” Kara pointed out. “But you’re right. Besides, Clark was behaving exactly the same way six months ago, and I still have unused jokes about that.”

“Oh, thanks, dear cousin.”

“You know what they say about people in glass houses.”

“I am so telling your parents.”

***

Clark was sipping his morning milk when Bruce walked in.

“Hey, babe,” he said, walking toward the fridge.

“Hey,” Clark was so mesmerized by his lover he didn’t realize what happened at first. When he did, Superman spat out his milk, covering Bruce in white dew. “What did you call me?!”

“Babe,” Bruce repeated nonchalantly, as he grabbed the towel to wipe himself off. “Oh, you didn’t like it…”

“No, that’s not… Haven’t you told me repeatedly that Batman doesn’t do pet names?”

“Well, I’m trying it out. Do you like it? You know you don’t have to hug me every time, right?”

“But I want to,” Kal almost believed to annoyance in his voice. “I don’t know yet, keep at it.”

Bruce struggled free from the embrace. “We better not be out of coffee. Have you checked the news yet?”

“You know I don’t do that before I get to work. Unless I have to, I mean. What happened? A giant meteor is approaching Earth? Lex Luthor invented another death ray?”

“Nothing so drastic,” Bruce pulled his phone out and showed Clark. “All media is convinced we’re dating.”

“So? They saw us together from the day one.”

Bruce really regretted that all newspapers went digital at the moment. A rolled up paper could stimulate brain quickly and efficiently.

“Not Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent! Batman and Superman!”

“Oh…”

“Oh! I don’t know how to react, though.”

“How do they…? Have we been spotted?”

“A camera on the roof of GothCorp from two nights back.”

“But it was raining!”

“Well, your cape is hard to miss. Mine is guessed rather than seen on the video, but pair it with all our other sightings together, me being seen in Metropolis and you in Gotham… They kind of just assumed.”

“That’s problematic. Makes you more human. Harder to fear,” Clark mused.

“Oh, please. Ever since Justice League, Batman has evolved far beyond that. My image can take it. I’m more worried someone might try to use it against us.”

“They could do it just as well when they thought all of us are just friends.”

“True,” Bruce got busy with a coffee maker. A buzzing sound filled the kitchen. “Aren’t you worried someone might suspect something? Clark Kent is already tied to Superman, and he’s got a boyfriend in Gotham, where Superman also got a boyfriend… Someone might figure it out.”

“Everyone who knows Clark Kent that well already knows. I’m not worried.”

“I am. I’ll think of something. Some stunt we could pull, like the two of us being somewhere and Martian Manhunter being giving a speech or something… Wait, no, everyone knows he can shapeshift. Maybe Zatana could cast some illusion, and J’onn could be there too, as a way to draw suspicion.”

Clark could almost hear the little wheels turning in Bruce’s head. “I love it when you’re scheming aloud.”

“Ugh, I can’t think straight when you’re hugging me! You should be taking this more seriously, Kal.”

“I am. I just trust you’ll think of something. It’s not an immediate threat. So, you don’t want to deny it?”

He noticed how this time Bruce didn’t try to free himself.

“And what kind of message will that send? Especially when the truth inevitably comes out? No. I think it’ll be best if we stop hiding.”

“You know they’ll write fanfics about us?” Clark narrowed his eyes.

“I thought they already did.”

“Oh, yes, Barry actually showed me…”

“You realize he probably wrote most of it, right?”

At these words both burst into uncontrollable laughter: Barry was a sort of a resident nerd.

“Anyway,” Superman finally stopped shaking. “I have a day off today. And last I checked, you don’t have anywhere to be too. So…”

Bruce’s face showed a wolfish grin, as he laid his hand against Clark’s chest. “So what?”

“So you promised to play with me.”

“Did I?” The hand moved to his lover’s throat. He did ask him for sessions more often than before, and Bruce couldn’t help but be proud of it. “It would seem I did.”

Kal opened his mouth to answer, but was hushed. Batman squeezed gently. There was a trick to erotic chocking: you need to compress carotids, not the airway, to create that nice euphoric lightheadedness. Everything else was play pretend.

“But you’ve been a good boy lately,” he mused, keeping track of heartbeat beneath his fingers. When it got fast enough, he let go and felt Clark giving into it. “Hm. I tell you what, this time you’ll decide what we play with. Go and grab whatever toys you like. And slip into something more appropriate, will you?”

He returned a few minutes later, with an armful of stuff they’ve collected over months. He was wearing nothing but a thin collar and leather bracelets.

Bruce slapped his hand on the counter. The kitchen was designed so the couple of them were at the center, giving the two quite a playground. “Put it all here. You know what to do next.”

As Clark squatted down and put his lips around a rising cock, Bruce ran through their toys. It was difficult to concentrate, with such an eager tongue swirling around the head.

“What do we have here…? A paddle? The last time I tried it, you were begging to stop before I was halfway done. We’ll see how you do today. Rope, huh? Fuck, that feels good! Aghh… No, we won’t be needing that,” he threw ball gag aside. “You’re either slurping or moaning, babe, no middle ground. Ooh, you brought my favorite buttplug! For your sake, I hope you’ve brought lube too. Ahh! Oh my god, that feels good!”

He looked down to discover Kent fully focused on the task. With a slight forward motion, Bruce plunged his dick further in, enjoying the gulping moves. He noticed the gag reflex was much duller than before.

“Who would have thought you were such a dirty little cocksucker when we first met?” he asked, pulling away. “Enough. Bend over here, hands behind your back.”

With Superman, rope play was a bit different. The man tore through hardest chains with ease, and so rope serve less to restrain and more to remind him he was not allowed to move. Normally, Bruce wasn’t a huge fan of binding, but Clark turned out to be quite a rope bunny, and that mattered more. Besides, the hemp looked exquisite against the gold of his skin.

He turned his tied down lover on his back. By this time, Bruce’s tongue already knew every crease and curve, but each journey discovered them anew. He slid down the muscular chest, crossed by the rope, to the stomach covered in soft curls and farther down to the thick hard cock, already eager for attention. Batman made sure to edge Clark, teasing him as best he could, pulling away and shifting attention somewhere else every time he heard a grunt or a moan.

Eventually he slid his tongue down and heard grunts turned to whimpers. Clark loved being eaten out, and Bruce could feel his thick thighs jerking in an attempt to circle around his neck, with only a few threads of hemp to stop them. He took his time, and when he was finally done, Clark was red-faced and heaving. It would only take a few moves to finish him off, but that wasn’t the plan.

The idea was to draw it out as long as possible, and good way to do it was to switch carrot and stick. He tested paddle on his palm and laughed as he watched Kal flinch from the sound.

“Now, now,” he said in deep baritone, as his hand was doling out carefully measured spanks: not too hard, not too soft. “I know you’re a glutton for punishment. You have a choice: if you take it like a good boy, I’ll shove that buttplug in you afterwards; if you whine, you’ll get buttplug thrice its size. How does that sound, boy?”

“Fair, Sir,” he answered in between hits.

“Thought so.”

He did not whine even when his cheeks were as red as apples. Bruce smiled, admiring his handiwork. There was something in seeing Clark submit that spoke to him on deepest levels and made a wild, untamed part of him rear its head. But also realization that he served as much as dominated filled sex with purpose and doubled the excitement. He may decide what they do, but only for as long as he was allowed, and the fact that Kal-El never stopped him, even when their games danced on the edge of permitted, even when he was visibly contemplating it, filled him with satisfaction.

Wayne made good on his word, and the firm silicone left a pleasant drag on his lover’s walls. He stopped for a bit, hands wandering, mind searching for new ideas. He edged Clark, but also himself, and now just wanted to plunge into warm, familiar flesh, to melt into him and reach the finale. But that would be boring; perhaps it was time to try out that idea he had for a while.

“Tear it all off,” he commanded.

“All of it? Are you sure? Sir,” he added under Bruce’s heavy gaze.

“Now.”

It took the slightest effort. A couple of simple moves for rope to strain and tear and fall down, unequal to his alien strength. Clark stood before him in all his glory, collared, shifting from foot to foot, head lowered in submission. Bruce fished a couple of handcuffs from the pile and secured the arms behind his back. Clark watched him, puzzled.

Bruce smirked. “So that you don’t get too comfortable,” he explained. “This looks nice. Now fuck me.”

“What?” the surprise was palpable. “But…”

“Did I stutter?” he had to force down laughter. For this to work, the domineering exterior must be upheld. “I told you to fuck me. You’ve done that before. Now I’m telling you to do it again.”

It’s true that Bruce usually preferred to top and Clark to bottom, but they never confined themselves to one role. Good sex was fun to do either way, and stupid stereotypes were rooted in homophobia and held no place in their lives. They came to expect a certain dynamics when playing it kinky, and it was a shock to turn it upside down.

“But why?”

“It’s “but why, Sir?” Bruce corrected. “Because I want it. And I ordered it. And you will do it, because you want it. And also because you’re a hungry dirty slut who belongs to me. Or maybe you prefer I go grab my belt?”

“No, Sir. Yes, Sir,” Clark wasn’t sure what he answered “yes” to, but the thought of a heavy leather belt after a paddle made him twitch. “How would you like it, Sir?”

“You know how to fuck me,” he answered, lubing himself up. After a moment he remembered Clark’s hands were cuffed, so he put some on his cock too, then laid on his back. “And don’t you dare finish too quickly.”

Kent clearly wanted to ask for his hands to be freed, but then realized that lack of comfort was kind of the point. Not without help he eased it in and started moving.

He wondered for a moment how he looked from the side: like a sex toy with voice command. A thought of an alien breaker hammer made him pick up the pace. Bruce moaned and moved in sync, obviously enjoying both rhythm and range. He wasn’t wrong: they knew how to fuck one another.

Bruce finished as he felt Clark painting his insides. He arched his back, let out another loud moan and sprawled across the counter. Superman broke the handcuffs with no more trouble than the rope and leaned on it near him.

“You good?” he asked in his normal tone. They slipped out of roles momentarily.

“Great. You?”

“Yeah... that was... yeah.”

“I can tell you write for a living,” Bruce laughed. “Okay, I’ll go shower first. Then we eat.”

He only just got out of the shower when his phone rang a very specific signal along with Clark’s.

“Breakfast cancelled, duty calls.”

“Fuck!”

***

Kal-El was late. Not his fault, this time, another crisis in Metropolis, apparently. Bruce wanted to go there and help, but realized the offer will offend. They weren’t a crime-fighting duo: both were superheroes in their own right and needed world to see it too.

They had their date planned, but were already late by an hour and a half, so the planes will have to be postponed. Bruce sighed, finished his tea and moved to bed, intent on finishing the crime novel he started a week ago and didn’t have time for.

Quiet crackling of the fireplace and warm, heavy blanket did their job, and he dozed off.

“Wakey-wakey,” murmured a familiar voice as Bruce was just sinking deeper into sleep. Someone was in his bed, and someone who wasn’t supposed to. “The moon is out, Batman, and last I heard, so are you.”

He jumped right up. “Holy shit! Selina?”

“Why the tone of surprise? Were times, you wouldn’t be shocked to find me in your bed,” she smiled. She pointed at her Catwoman outfit and added: “Although it usually involved much less leather.”

“Those times are long since passed, Selina. I haven’t seen you in what, two years?” he didn’t hold a grudge or anything, but this visit was a surprise: they barely kept in touch.

“I explained, I had to have some “me time.”

“So did you?”

“Yes. It was quite fun. It still is, actually,” she ran her clawed fingers across his chest. Bruce didn’t fool himself: sex appeal was part or Selina’s image, but nothing was going to happen. Their break up was calm, well-weighed and mutual, you don’t jump into each other’s bed from that.

“Why are you here?”

Bruce stood up and picked up a robe from the chair. Good thing he almost never slept naked, or this might have been awkward. Selina got up from the bed too to and went to the coffee table to pour herself some leftover tea.

“I don’t know. I came back to Gotham last night, I decided to visit an old friend. They are becoming a rare commodity these days.”

“Did someone die?”

“I’m sure someone somewhere in Gotham has, but that’s not it. How’ve you been, Bruce?”

“Would you like something stronger?” he nodded at her teacup. She shook her head in response. “I’m good, actually. Justice League keeps me away from craziness of Gotham, and a lot of new people are taking up the crusade. It’s good for me to step away a bit.”

“I could’ve told you that years ago,” Selina fell in the chair and graciously crossed her legs. “I’m glad. How are the kids? How’s Tim?”

She always liked him best.

“In a tough spot right now, but nothing he… we can’t handle. Why don’t you see him? See all of them! Believe it or not, we missed you, Selina.”

“Oh, I believe you,” she purred. “And I will see them. In time. I am hardly a family reunion kind of girl. And what about the latest addition to the family?”

“Hm?” he raised an eyebrow, knowing perfectly well who she meant. Catwoman was never prejudiced, far from it, but their shared past still made the conversation awkward.

“The big blue addition. Come on, spill it,” Selina smiled. “You know I won’t judge.”

Bruce sighed and sat in a chair in front of her.

“It’s been wild. Somewhat weird, and sometimes I think a little too fast, but wild and wonderful.”

“Oh my god!” she exclaimed. “So it’s serious-serious? I’d never thought he were your type!”

“I thought you knew…”

“Oh, I knew you liked men, I never thought you’d like a goody-two-shoes kind.”

“Well, something has to counterweight my attraction to dark and dangerous women.”

“Touché,” she laughed. “How serious are you two?”

“Serious enough that I don’t invite you to join the fun.”

“Ah,” Selina gasped. “You’ve gone exclusive? Are you sure you’re alright? Because I swear if that alien broke my Batman…”

“Selina…”

“I’m kidding. I’m happy for you. Well, don’t stare, tell me about him. What’s he like?”

“Kind. Caring. Hope to my fear. A bit naïve sometimes, but I find it charming. Uncompromising when it comes to being Superman, but agreeable as Clark. I love him.”

“Yeah, yeah, I actually meant in bed. Come on, you can’t leave out anything juicy!”

“That’s between me and him, Selina, you should know better than to ask.”

“Maybe. But while you were sleeping I found these handcuffs in your bedside table and was wondering…”

“Selina!” he didn’t blush, but looked away nonetheless.

“Okay, okay! Not my business. Stick-in-the-mud. Want me to steal you a ring? I’m sure you’ll buy something atrocious.”

“Thanks for the voice of confidence. And it’s too early to be making assumptions. But enough about that, what are your plans?”

Catwoman silently looked at her claws, as if checking out manicure.

“Oh, you know, a little fun here and there.” She didn’t want to elaborate, but gave up under Bruce’s heavy stare. “Just a bit of girl time with Harley and Ivy. Nothing illegal. Or, at least, nothing immoral.”

“I’m finding that hard to believe,” he doubted. “They’re not good company, Selina.”

Her green eyes narrowed. Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy might not be the villains they once were, but you’d hardly call them good. For Catwoman it might be the slippery slope that would lead her back into the life of crime. After all she went through to get away from it, it felt like a huge risk.

“They’re important to me,” Selina raised her hand. “And I to them. And we’re going somewhere, growing together. After all we’ve been through, I thought you’d trust me.”

In that, she was right. Catwoman proved her heart time and again, and even if he really didn’t like the other two, she’s earned more than his disdain.

“You don’t need my trust,” he said peacefully. “But you have it. If that’s where you think you belong, then so be it. Would you like to stay the night? I’m sure the Batfamily will love to see you.”

“I’m sure they would,” she put her cup down and got out of the chair. “But the moon is already gone, and I think I’ll follow suit.”

“I’m glad we talked,” Bruce knew full well how pointless it would be to dissuade her.

“So am I. Tell the rest I’ll visit soon,” with these words she threw her legs across the windowsill and was gone in a heartbeat. Bruce could guess a dark figure in the shadows for a few more seconds before she disappeared completely.

He returned to bed, still pondering about an unexpected visit. Tonight’s plans might have been ruined, but at least something good has come of it. And he had so many more plans for the future.


End file.
